The Meek Shall Inherit
by MimiLuvs16
Summary: Nasira Grant, a natural born member of the Dauntless faction, appears to be the least expected member of the faction. She's an introvert, who prefers the grand silent halls of libraries instead of sparring rooms. It has earn her the nickname "Meek the Mouse". So what happens when she is involved in a 'love square' with a Dauntless leader? COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

**Hello Everyone!**

 **This is my attempt at publishing a story on here . Also, this is my very first time at writing a fan fiction as well. I am a bit nervous about the reactions to this one.**

 **This is an A/U, non-canon fanfic inspired by "The Divergent Series". There's no war. Mere mentions of the existence of divergents. No Abegnation massacre. Plus, I added some history and other things as well. This tale is "Rate M" for the adult language, adult themes and... um, the lemons and the limes that are sprinkle through the story.**

 **When it comes to this story, I was inspired by another fan fiction writer, talented and lovely SparkleMichele (she has a fan fiction and has published several stories, relating to Sons of Anarchy... So, check her out if you're interested). I was inspired by an "Imagine..." that she has on her Tumblr page (once again, check it out) which was about a love triangle involving Dauntless leader Eric and an OFC. That sliver of inspiration caused me to indulge in my whims for once and write a smutty 'one-shot' with lemon-y goodness at the end. This led to me discovering that I don't have the ability to write 'one-shots'. I am too damn detailed with my stories and I hate rushing to a point. LOL!**

 **So this story was turned into a full-fledge story. A short story, to be quite honest with you. I am almost finish with the writing process. I would love to write sequels for this tale, but I don't know if I will yet.**

 **Ever since this is a fan fiction for the "Divergent Series", I must add the disclaimer.**

 **Disclaimer : When it comes to the characters, the original premise and the settings of The Divergent Trilogy, I do not own any of them. Veronica Roth owns them. I only own the original characters that you will read. **

**Enjoy!**

The loud shrillness of the alarm snatched Nasira from out of her dreams as if it was an actual hand. She quickly sat upright and planted a clammy hand over her left breast. Her palm felt the strong and sturdy thumps that made up her heartbeats. Her sleep-coated eyes scanned her bedroom, as if to ensure herself that she indeed had fallen asleep in her bedroom. 'Okay, calm yourself,' her inner voice spoke. 'Just… Think of him.'

Then, at that moment, she received the biggest reminder: a series of flutters inside of her stomach. The flutters then turned into a ball of pressurized discomfort near the pit of her belly, right underneath her navel. Her fingers sought after the tender spot, where she gave a firm yet benevolent poke. A millisecond later, she received another fluttering sensation. She giggled.

Her eyes drifted down to view the top of her extended belly, which was the temporary home for her unborn son, for the next three weeks. She sweetly said, "Hey baby boy!" with a wide, toothy smile. "How are you doing?" Her palms and fingers caressed her stomach's expanded flesh. "I'm alright. I'm just excited to meet you."

After having her interaction with her son, Nasira started her daily morning process before she left for work: showered, ate a full breakfast meal and looked in her closet for an outfit for the day. Being that she was a member of the dauntless faction, black was the sole approved color for her to wear. She really had to fight those ongoing urges to wear clothes that were another color other than black or maroon, which was another acceptable color for the faction members to wear. The expectant, mom-to-be had to disregard the rack of colorful items that she secretly wore in her apartment and she picked a suitable black outfit. She chose to wear an ankle-length, fitted cotton dress that was held up by a halter top. There was a hip-length slit that exposed the right thigh, whenever she took a step. After fixing her thick, shoulder-length hair and throwing on some jewelry, she realized that she made an effort to look stylish for a change.

'This is a first. The last time I actually put some thought into…' Her mind's eye conjured up a memory from the striking evening. There were flashes of red chiffon, bared brown skin and a pleasant reminder of a bright full moon, as well as, fissures of mind-numbing pleasure. 'No… No… No. Don't remember that night. Please,' her brain pleaded with herself.

As she applied a coat of pink lip gloss to her plump bottom lip, her eyes did an unintentional glimpse at her nightstand clock. The neon green, electric numbers spelt out the time as being '9:48 AM'. She was supposed to leave her home eighteen minutes ago. 'Shit, I gotta go! I'm going to be late if I don't!'

*~oMLo~*

'Soooo, today is going to be one of _those days_ for me, huh?' she pondered as she stood in the fourth security check-point line that was placed in the Dauntless main headquarters.

She was in the twenty-third spot of the line and the security guards had just finished checking the fifth person. She checked the time from off of her cell phone and read the numbers '11:34 AM'. It was official: she was late to work, which was a first-time feat. Her day really didn't start yet and it was already acting up like a churlish child. Once she left her apartment, she had gone to use the elevator and learned that it was out of order. So, she had taken the stairs from the fourth floor. Being that she was nine months pregnant, she had to take her time, so a ten-minute activity ended up being a twenty-minute activity for her. After she left the apartment building, she traveled to her black Jeep Wrangler and discovered that she was heavily boxed by other vehicles in the tenants' parking lot. Rather than contact the building's manager in order to solve this problem, she decided to take public transportation into the faction's business sector. She had to wait an additional twelve minutes for a bus, which she damned near had to shove and push her way in, so she could travel to work. Sixteen minutes away from her job's location, the bus had to make a detour due to a vehicular accident on a street. The detour added another eleven minutes to her trip. Once off of the bus, she performed a slight skip-frolicked, brisk walk to her job. She worked out the faction's most-populated sector in the faction's main headquarters, which was affectionately known as 'The Mind'.

Being that The Mind housed the offices of the factions' important figures such as the leaders, the ambassadors, as well as, important organizations such as the police department and the location of the Control Room, each employee had to go through four security check-points. Nasira was waiting to go through number four.

'Can this day become any wors—

" **BEEEEEEEPPPPP! BEEEEEEEEEPPP! BEEEEEEEEPPPP! BEEEEEEEEPPPPP!"**

"Ma'am?" a security officer announced to a woman that was eleven spots ahead of Nasira's position. "Can you please step through the metal detectors again?"

'UUUUGGGGGGGHHHHH!'

*~oMLo~*

'Okay, maybe he's in his office. Hopefully, the asshole is in his office. Okay, more than likely, he won't be in his office. But one can hope, right?'

Nasira arrived to her department, the Systems Analyst Unit where she was one of the chief computer software technicians, thirty-five minutes after her experience with the check-point. Once she stepped off of the elevator that led her to the sub-level floor, she began to look out for her supervisor, Rafe. She traveled down the hallways using quick footfalls. She gave her colleagues firm, quick greetings while she remained mobile. She entered the air-conditioned, dimly lit and open-spaced area that was occupied with numerous cubicles, with one goal in mind: make it to her cubicle without Rafe spotting her. She knew that she could have an acquaintance of hers, who worked in the timekeeping unit, change her sign-in time. All she needed was for the lanky, tattooed glorified-pincushion to not see her. She ducked down as far as she could go and she trotted down the aisles that quickly led her to her desk. Her eyes did survey each open space.

'Okay, so far, so good.'

When she spotted a familiar black cubicle wall that held the nameplate that read 'Nasira Grant', she unleashed a sigh of relief. She stood up straight and slipped her arms out of her knapsack's straps. With a nonchalant gait and a calmed nature, she walked upright for the rest of the way. She entered her cubicle, only to see that it was already occupied.

'FFFFFUUUCCCKKK, MAN!' her brain screamed in agitation as her sight settled on the lanky frame that was relaxing in her rolling, executive chair.

Rafe McDaniels sat in her chair as if he belonged there. He had the back of her chair reclined backwards to the point where it seemed as if it would touch the floor. His long, skinny jean-clad legs were extended out in front of him and was crossed at the ankles. His elbows rested on the armchairs. In his left hand, he held a hot pink, rubber stress ball, which belonged to her. He stared straight ahead, at the cubicle's wall that was in front of him. His tattooed profile was on display.

"Miss Grant…" he greeted her in a taunting twang. He turned his face towards her, showing off his full profile that was decorated with numerous piercings. His hazel-green eyes zeroed in on her. "…you're late," he announced.

"I know," she stated with a head nod. Her eyes did a nervous twitch. "I'm sorry, Sir…" Her head did several shakes. "…It will never happen again," she promised. She didn't know whether or not her pitiful display would get the jackass off of her back sooner, but it was worth a try.

Rafe swung the chair ninety-degrees, so he could face her. "I know that it is difficult for you to move quickly…" She watched his eyes focus on her expanded tummy. "…in your delicate and special condition, but I would've hoped that you would've learned by now to adapt—

"Hey, Rafe?!"

The voice had come from the cubicle that was to the left of hers. A second later, a person popped up, a woman with pale blond hair and several facial piercings. She stared over the partition.

"Yes?" he stated in an authoritative tone of voice. Even though he was talking to the other employee, his eyes remained on Nasira.

"I got one of the secretaries from the leadership—

"Put her through on Miss Grant's phone. **Now**!" his voice boomed.

"Gotcha," the employee plainly stated. Nasira heard the person mumble 'You fucking dick-hole' under their breath as they moved to sit down.

She turned her attention back to Rafe, who was now speaking to someone on her desk's telephone. Then it hit her. He was speaking to a secretary who worked on the leadership wing, which meant that something needed a repair. More than likely, a piece of equipment in one of the leaders' offices needed a repair.

'Shit,' her mind groaned. 'Okay, be positive. Maybe it's not him. There are other leaders up there. Maybe it's Max's computer. And besides, Rafe doesn't have to send me up there. He could send Patrick— No, he's not going to send him up there. There's other chiefs he could send. I'm not the only person who—

"Grant!"

His loud, booming voice cut through her pondering. She focused on her boss again. He was now facing her again. "Yes Sir?"

"I need you to go to the leadership…"

'Aww man, _what-the-fuck_ is wrong with my life today?'

"…wing to fetch a broken e-tablet from a leader," he reported.

"Which one, Sir?" she asked, with a fringe of hope attached to her voice. 'Please, don't be him. Don't be him. Don't be him…'

"Eric…"

'FUCK MY LIFE!'

"…Coulter," answered Rafe.

'FUCKITY-FUCK-FUCK-FUCK THIS SHIT, MAN!'

"Miss Grant, I need for you to make this job your _top priority right now_. Forget about all of the other work that you have right now," Rafe instructed. "I need for you to go upstairs and picked this thing up. You promise him or his secretary that you'll fix this thing and have it for him before the _end of the day_. You, _and only you_ , work on this tablet. If the problem is not software-related, you better haul your fat ass…"

Her hands balled up into fists just as her anger rose. 'This fucking asshole…'

"…to the technical labs and have one of those geeks work on it," he ordered. "And if they can't fix it, then get him a new one—A better one! One of the newest models and hook that up with all of his preferences and personal data. Do you understand me?"

Through her clenched teeth, she uttered "You were crystal clear". She didn't say another word to her boss. She walked away from her cubicle and back out of the department again. She slipped on her knapsack again as she waited for the elevator to take her to the eighth floor, which was known as the leadership wing. As she rode in the elevator, her mind began to conjure up old memories.

*~oMLo~*

'I hope that this repair doesn't take too long,' she said to herself as she rode the elevator.

The elevator's automated voice announced her arrival to the eighth floor before the carriage stopped. As soon as the elevator's door was opened wide enough, she slipped her ample figure through the space. Her sneakers made a thick 'clunk'-ing sound with each step on the black marble floor. She left the elevator bay and entered the posh decorated waiting area. She approached the semi-circular, receptionist's station. Sitting in the middle of the structure's opening was a woman that was dressed like a stereotypical 'Dauntless transfer', according to Nasira: all-black apparel with several ostentatious tattoos and piercings on her body. Her hair was a cacophony of colors while she had all her body's curves on display. The receptionist kept her eyes on the contents that were on her desk rather than on the person who was about to approach the desk.

"Good morning…" Nasira greeted the woman. She noticed the receptionist's eyes did a brief glance at her before resuming her task. "I am fr—

"Yes, good morning, how can I help you?" the seated woman plainly stated, as well as, rudely interrupted.

'Bitch,' Nasira's brain grumbled. Her full top lip twitched a few ticks, a way of avoiding the event of forming a snarl, before she had spoken up again. "I am from the Systems Analyst Te…" As she spoke, she saw the receptionist's vision land on her bulging belly. In a split second, the fine, cosmetic-enhanced features on her face did a sign of disgust. Nasira felt a wave of heat flood her just as her anger rose. _'Today is not the best-fucking-day for me!'_ she silently shouted. "…ch Department…" Her right hand snatched up her work identification badge that hung from a lanyard that was around her neck. She presented the badge to the rude, insipid bitch that sat at the front desk. The woman's eyes did a brief glimpse at the badge. Nasira released it from her grip. "… I am here to pick up an item from Dauntless Leader Eric Coulter."

The young chief computer technician took note of the weird luster that took over the woman's brown eyes. For a few seconds, at the mention of his name, her face held a pleasant serene look as if she was recalling a very fine memory. For Nasira, she made a lascivious-fueled assumption about what type of memory that this woman was re-living. Just as soon as it appeared, the serene look disappeared and the unnamed woman's 'bitch face' returned. She eyed the technician with a tilt of an eyebrow. "Your name?"

Nasira internally smiled a smug one because she was aware of the impending reaction that this woman will have, once she learned who she was. Or rather, which Dauntless dynasty that she hailed from. "My name is Nasira Grant," she answered.

Sure enough, the piss-poor behavior had quickly disappeared after she heard the name and her brain reminded the woman of the tech's lineage. The woman slightly shifted in her black leather rolling chair, a sign of her discomfort while her face slipped on a mask of pleasantry. In a friendlier and warmer tone, she said "Ma'am— Miss Grant, in order to get to Dauntless Leader Eric Coulter's office-suite, you have to take this hallway…" The woman's left index finger pointed to the hallway's entrance that was located behind Nasira. "…and make a right. His office-suite is the last one on the left side."

The mom-to-be gave the receptionist a simple smile. "Thank you," she said too sweetly. She was enjoying the woman's back-pedaling too much.

"You're welcome…" She unleashed an unnatural toothy smile, another sign of her nervousness. "Have a nice day!"

"You too," Nasira announced before walking away. 'Bitch.'

*~oMLo~*

 _Fifteen months and two weeks ago..._

'I hope that this repair don't take too long because it is eating away at my lunch time!'

Nasira continued to walk down the isolated corridor while glancing at the mounted wall plaques that hung beside each closed, conference room's entryway. 'Rafe's fucking ass had the nerve to fetch me from the cafeteria to do this shit! The nerve of his bony ass! If this is _soooo important_ , then he could've came up here to do this shit himself! After all, he likes to think that he's so smart. Typical-fucking-Erudite-nose!' She made a left turn into another hallway and her vision was suddenly blinded with the color of blue. Or rather, she noticed that the hallway was unusually populated with folks dressed in blue. They appeared to be on a break. There were blue people sitting down in chairs, talking to each other. There were some people talking to each other while leaning up against the wall. Blue people were using their cell phones and others were working from their tablets. Nasira stared at all of them as she walked through the hallway. 'Blue… Blue… Blue… Blue is… Erudite! Erudite-blue! Wait! Why people from Erudite are here? What's…? You know what? Never mind, it is not my business! I am here to fix a fucking projector.'

The young technician found the conference room that she was looking for. She was still living inside of her head as she entered the room. Her activity was disrupted when she heard someone call her name. 'It's Patrick,' her brain reminded her. Immediately, a wave of warmth covered her body while her heartbeats picked up its pace and a blush crept up in her face. Her dark brown eyes landed on the creature that was the inspiration behind these reactions. Patrick stood by the side of a long rectangular-shaped, conference table. His large, muscular six-feet-five inched frame was hunched over. He was staring at the screen that was attached to a laptop. Using his left hand, he summoned her over. Walking over to him, she felt her heart slam against her breast bone and her stomach flutter. She knew that it was very foolish for her to act like a teenager, but she couldn't help it.

Despite the pleasant-feeling catastrophe that was going on inside of her, she was cool and collected externally. "Hey Patrick, what's going on?" she said in a neutral, almost bored voice. Her nose caught a whiff of the cologne that was floating off of him. 'God, he smells so good,' she secretly swooned.

"I'm having trouble hooking this projector up to the laptop…." He stood upright and taken a few steps off to the side. He stared down at her. "… I've tried everything that I could come up with and nothing is working," he reported. "Do you think that you could do your magic on this?" There was a lop-sided grin on his face that showcased his sense of accepted humility and highlighted the pair of dimples on his cheeks.

A shiver ran through her body. "I can give it the ol' college try," she informed him. She gave him a smile, pulled out the closest available chair and she proceeded to get to work. Within six minutes, she discovered the problem, assessed the situation, thought of possible routes to correct the problem and then she picked one to fix it. Within those short six minutes, she was able to fix the problem, so the meeting could begin. Just when she thought that she could return to her remaining peanut butter and jelly sandwich that was hiding in her desk's drawer, she was given more bad news. She was instructed to stay for the meeting by one of the meeting's orchestrators. They wanted someone with _'more experienced with tech equipment'_ in the room, just in case the projector needed more repairs.

Hearing such a statement made her cheeks burned with mortification and second-hand embarrassment for Patrick, who was the first repair man that was assigned to this room. Once the meeting progressed, both she and Patrick had to stand in a darkened corner, one that was closest to the table. She felt as if they were treating her like she was a maid, who had to wait on the rich guests, hand and foot. She glanced over at her colleague. He appeared to be enthralled with the meeting's subject matter and the Power Point presentation that had gone along with it.

So, he was totally oblivious to Nasira's steady ogling. Her eyes took in the way his all-black business attire flattered his deep brown skin. She considered his skin to be flawless: no signs of blemishes and his complexion was even toned. Patrick always dressed atypical from the other male, Dauntless faction members. He wore buttoned shirts and slacks that were tailored to his tall frame. He kept his shoes, and even his sneakers, well-maintained. Soon, she was conjuring up fake scenarios in her mind that involved her playing the role of his wife and mother to his children. It was during her imagined scenario in which both she and the hypothetical kids were sitting on their porch, carving up pumpkins when she recalled the moment that occurred close to an hour ago.

" _No-no-no-no, you… Stay. We need someone else hear with, uh, more experience. Just in case, this projector wants to break down again."_

Her sense of mortification returned and she had to cover her face with her sleeved-up hands. She growled softly into her palms and then bit into the knitted fabric, in order to bear down on the sensation that she was enduring. 'I can't believe that asshole said that! How fucking rude—

' _A man needs to be a man, Nassy!'_

Suddenly, her mother's voice penetrated her thoughts. Then she realized it was actually a memory, a childhood one.

'… _If he is a real good one, then he won't allow his wife to financially provide for his family… No, it has nothing to do with his ego or his pride. It's just the way things are with us, humans…. Baby, it doesn't matter if a man is from Dauntless, Erudite, Amity, Abnegation or from Candor, he'll want to be the 'head of his household'… Once again, baby, I'm not saying that he wants to be an abusive control freak… Also 'nother thing: don't you ever embarrass a man. You got that? Don't you ever make a man feel less than a man, whether if it is in the privacy of your home or in public. Never embarrass him. I've seen men do things to people, when they were embarrassed. The type of things where a man can't correct them… Just stuff that you shouldn't have in your head… Of course, you're going to get angry at your boyfriends… Hell, I do get angry at your father… Yeah, you might get angry at him. But try not to hurt him to the point where he can't get back up… No, Nassy, (chuckles) I don't mean kicking him in his balls!'_

Now she fully understood the message behind her mother's pearls of wisdom. She removed her hands away from her face and she did a side-eyed glance at her crush. She silently calculated that he didn't appear upset or resentful about her presence. Actually, he was more content and calm. She knew that his demeanor could've been a façade after all. His birth faction was Abnegation.

A sound of a cough tore her attention away from Patrick. She scanned the conference room and the other occupants. She knew which people were paying attention to the presenter and which ones were distracted. 'There's…' Her eyes did a sweep and counted all of the Erudite members that came to this meeting. '…one-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight people from Erudite…' She did another observation, but this time she glimpsed at their jackets' lapels for any gold pins. '…One. There's one leader amongst them.' Her eyes did a full sweep of the Dauntless members who sat at the table. 'One-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight-nine-ten-eleven… Eleven members…' Her eyes searched for neck tattoos and hand tattoos, which were signs of leadership. Her eyes came across one leader as he sat at the end of the table. His leadership tattoos were displayed on his neck, near his ears. She noticed that his head was bowed and his hands were not on the table. His eyes held a glazed over yet alert look about them. The tip of his tongue stuck out and curled over his top lip. 'He's playing a video game on his phone…' She scanned the table again and found another leader. He was sitting on the left side of the table and the one closest to the projector. She saw his leadership tattoos clearly because he was gazing over in her direction. 'Shit!' She froze.

She couldn't turn her attention away from this particular leader's glare. She felt like she was a Greek soldier who was in Medusa's lair and who was unfortunate enough to come across the vile creature. Except this particular creature did not look vile at all. Nasira knew that if she wasn't such a nosy creature and she didn't understand body language, she would've thought that this man was handsome. She also knew that his heavy and sturdy gazing would've done some damage to her panties. This particular leader was young-looking, so she assumed that he must've been one of the new leaders that were added within the last few years. For Nasira, she stopped showing interest in the new leaders' lineup, once she was initiated into the Dauntless faction as a full-fledge member.

'But he does look familiar though,' she said to herself.

Her dark brown eyes' sight playfully danced all over the young Dauntless leader's physique. She first took note of his eyes. They were intense, but beautiful. When there was dim lighting in the room, thanks to the projection screen, his eyes would appear to be obsidian, almost the same color of his uniform. Then when a bright color would flash across the screen they would light up to a bright blue. It was like God made his eyes to represent the sky. She almost missed the garish hairdo and the two piercings, because she was so focused on his eyes. The top of his head held longer hair which was slathered down with hair gel and was given a slight bump. The sides were tapered down. It was an unusual hairdo, but it wasn't weird enough for this faction. The piercings above his left brow caused her to stare at the gauges that were in each of his earlobes. His thick, pale-skinned neck stuck out of his black shirt. There, on his neck, was his leadership tattoo. There were four columns of blocks that started from his collarbone and ended right before his neck connected to his jaw. 'Right on the neck. A place where he could show off his title and brag about it without having to open up his mouth.'

She had forgotten the significance of the columns, but she remembered the concept of 'having more' meant someone of importance. Her godfather, Max, had seven columns tattooed on his hands, each column was tattooed on each finger. Her late father Goliath had six columns on his back that had gone from the top of his shoulders to the small of his back. Her uncle Xerxes had five columns on his calves: three columns on his left calf and two on his right.

'For him to have four columns and at such a young age, he must be doing something right.'

She saw his relaxed posture in his black, leather chair. He was leaning into the back of the chair. His arms casually rested on the armrests to the point where they looked as if they could fall off. His long legs were tucked underneath the table so she couldn't see them. But she did assumed that he must've had them extended. As he sat in his comfortable chair, he kept staring in her direction and the energy that was swirling in those cerulean-hued orbs was not a happy one.

'Okay, who is he and what-in the-hell did I do to him?' she pondered as she gave him a hard stare.

Nasira was ripped out of her thoughts when a sudden sneezing sound rang out into the conference room. Suddenly all eyes were focused on the darkened corner. Her cheeks buzzed and blushed in response to being the subject of everyone's attention.

"I'm-I'm sorry everyone," Patrick apologized, with his humility and genuine regret on display. Her eyes did a swift peek at her tall co-worker, who was wiping at his nose with a pocket square. Then she scanned the room again to watch the meeting's occupants settle back down. As much as she wanted to avoid his penetrating glare, her line of sight did land on the nameless Dauntless leader. His line of sight was steadfast and committed, she thought as she watched him watch her.

'Okay, who in the hell is he and why does he keep looking at me?' she silently groaned in irritation. 'Do I know him? Did we go to school or something?' Her vision bounced off of his face and landed on the breast pocket of his jacket. 'Name tag! I totally forgotten about the— Shit, I need my glasses!' Nasira's left hand reached into the inside pocket of her ankle-length duster and produced a black eyeglass case. She fetched her glasses and slipped them on. In an instant, her vision had become keener in range perception. She looked across the board room, at the Dauntless Peeper and read the name off of the name tag. 'E. Coulter… Coulter… Coulter… Coulter… The name sounds somewhat fam…'

Her memory bank released a small deposit in the form of an image of herself, in front of her mother's free-standing mirror and staring at her reflection. She recalled wearing a black, cocktail dress that ran to the middle of her thighs and there was a black lace, boat neck collar. She remembered that the younger version of herself believed that she looked sexy in her dress. An image of her dancing with Malachi in Leader Franklin's living room.

'Same dress. Same dress. Coulter. Coulter. Coulter. Leadership. Frank— Shit, I remember! I remember!' Nasira unleashed an involuntary squeak of glee. She rapidly scanned the room to make sure that she didn't draw attention to herself. No one was staring at her except for the young leader. 'The same one who was the last one to become established before my dad died. That's why I didn't remember him right away.'

Fifteen minutes later, the meeting was adjourned after an hour and forty-five minutes had gone by. Both Patrick and Nasira remained rooted in their spots as the Erudite people and the Dauntless underlings gathered their belongings. As she stood there, she took that opportunity to search for E. Coulter. She caught a glimpse of him before his sight was swallowed up by other large-statured men in black.

"Most of the people are gone. I think we…" She looked to Patrick, who continued talking. "…could start dismantling this stuff now." She watched him make a few steps towards the table before she joined him. Both technicians began their process. There was silence between them as they powered down the equipment. "That was an interesting meeting," he declared as he pulled a USB plug out of the laptop.

Nasira skimmed his face, did a polite giggle and then mumbled a "Yeah, it was". She didn't even know what the meeting was about. She was too occupied staring down her superior.

"The thing about the divergents…"

Her hands stilled. The last circle of black cord that was around her fingers became loose. The thick, black cord that was being pinched by her right index finger and thumb became slack. With a heavy heart and cautious eyes, she stared at her crush as he talked.

"…Ms. Matthews seems like she knows what she is doing, when it comes to getting rid of them…"

Her brain did a mirthless laugh. 'Yeah, getting rid of them by putting a bullet in their heads.'

"…I hope she is able to solve the problem soon," Patrick stated wistfully.

'Ha-ha, no you really don't,' she said in her head.

Fortunately, Patrick kept his mouth shut and continued with the process. During the pregnant amount of silence, Nasira stayed in her subconscious. This time, she thought about Jeanine Matthews' efforts in eradicating the divergent population. She knew that the woman was a nutcase, who was slowly being driven into madness. She just hoped that the proper officials would catch on to this before she manipulated them into murdering a special demographic of citizens.

"Oh shit, I just realized that you're still here."

Patrick's voice pulled her out of her thoughts once again. She glanced at him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, you came up here to help me and now you're helping me again, when you don't have to," he explained.

"No I don't mind helping you. It keeps me out of the office anyway," she offered.

"What about your lunch break?"

"Rafe sent one of his minions to the cafeteria to bring me up here. Sooo, there was no lunch for me today," she informed him. Patrick stood upright and his movement caught Nasira's attention. She glanced at him. She took note of the look on his face. To her, he held a look of disappointment.

"Aww man, Meek, he shouldn't have made you come here…" He placed a hand on her left shoulder. "… I would've eventually found the problem for this."

"Now you know that I couldn't say 'no' to him," she explained. "He would've chewed my ass out and then would spend the next two years tormenting my ass with tasks and assignments. Don't worry about me. I have a few of those breakfast bars and a bottle of water in my drawer." She waved her hand in front of them. "It's nothing. I'll be alright."

In an unexpected but very welcomed action, Patrick drew her into his personal space and wrapped his thick arms around her, for a hug. The sudden action caused her body to become rigid for a second, but once she realized it was just a hug, she relaxed against him. Her own arms slipped from in between their bodies and wrapped around his waist. The left side of her face pressed itself a little deeper into his chest while a deeper smile was embedded into her face. She took a strong whiff of his shirt and was greeted with a melody of fragrances: a blend of woodsy-floral cologne, his natural musky scent and the faint grain of the clothes cleanser that was lace on his buttoned-down shirt. Her hands and fingers memorized the way his back felt, the hardness of his muscles and bones. He was built for this faction, but his soul and spirit was pure Abnegation, the qualities that made him attractive.

"I do _really-really-really_ appreciate the fact that you're still helping me out, Meek…"

Nasira cringed inwardly, when she heard the unwanted nickname, this time. This was the third time so far. 'I really gotta tell him to call me by my first name.'

"…I know that if it was another tech, they would've rolled out of here at the first chance."

"Even if it was another person, they couldn't leave anyway. It was a Dauntless leader that told me to stay and like with Rafe, I couldn't defy him. Cause if I did, my ass would've been factionless by tonight and I would've been fighting another dude for a can of baked beans somewhere," she jested. Both hugging technicians laughed. They casually parted from each other as their laughter slowly died out.

Once apart, Nasira's dark brown orbs did a full sweep of the conference room. She noticed the room was emptied of Erudites, except for three. Two members of the faction of knowledge were standing in the back of the room, near another exit while waiting for their compatriot. The lagging third member was standing in close proximity of three Dauntless members. The four men were engaged in a conversation. The small party included the gazing, young Dauntless leader E. Coulter. The same person who was currently eying Nasira.

'Fuck,' she muttered in her head. She quickly turned her attention back to Patrick, who was oblivious to the situation, because he was preoccupied with dismantling projector parts. With a lick of her bottom lip and a thin smirk, she resumed helping him. Even as she wrapped cords and stacked parts, she felt the azure-eyed glowering. 'What-the-fuck did I do to him?!'

"You know…" Patrick started out with, using a conspiratorial tone, "… I was planning on leaving out as soon as you were finished with the projector". He had shown off one of his beautiful smiles. "I was hoping that I could leave early for lunch, so I could meet up with my girl…"

' _My girl…'_

 _'My girl...'_

 _'My girl..._ '

Her brain replayed his words numerous times. It was as if she didn't believe those words actually spilled from his plump lips. With every passing recitation, the truth kept seeping into her consciousness. Her stomach quivered while the disappointment settled in.

"… She is working a 'nine-to-five' shift today and she has lunch at three today. I wanted to go and buy her flowers or something nice like that…" He gave her left arm a playful pat. "Hey, have you met my girlfriend? I'm sure you know her. She's kind of well-known around here, after all, she is one of the doctors for the clinic. Anissa Howard…"

'Anissa Howard? Yes, I know that bit—Woman.' Immediately, her brain conjured up a mental image that belonged to Patrick's girlfriend. She was an Erudite transfer, four years before Nasira's initiation. She was urgent care physician in their faction's infirmary, but she did traveled to different factions to treat people as well. Nasira didn't know much about her personal character because both women did not share any mutual friends or acquaintances. The only thing that she did know was the fact that Anissa was a very attractive woman with her exotic physical looks: olive complexion, wavy brown hair that hung low, a pair of brown-copper hued irises that were set in almond-shaped eyes, high cheekbones that were defined and a pouty mouth that were framed by a heart-shaped face. She was blessed with a five feet-five inch curvy-toned figure that made all of the men with a pulse ogle. 'Shit, this shouldn't surprise me at all.'

"…she works in the clinic, but she will be taking some time off to help train the initiates, a few months from now. She—

"Yeah, I know her," Nasira unintentionally barked. She inwardly cringed at her abrupt display of bitterness.

"Oh… Okay, well—

She stopped working. She glanced at her colleague and then noticed the glimpse of curiosity that he was gifting her. "Patrick, why don't you go on and meet up with your girlfriend? I'll…"

"Meek, are you sure? 'Cause, I don't want you to—

"…clean—No, I'm okay! I don't have much to do and I have the cart-thingy to use…" she explained. She did a nonchalant wave in the air. "…So go on and have fun with your girlfriend."

Patrick smiled at her. His toothy smile didn't cause the typical physical manifestations in her anymore.

His right hand approached her left shoulder once more, in a friendly pat. "Thank you so much, Meek!"

A forced smile crawled upon her face. "You're welcome, Patrick!"

"I'll see you later!" he announced before making a happy exit out of the room.

Nasira gave the doors another glance before she returned to her tasks. She carried several items over to the rolling cart.

"Excuse me?"

She knew that the statement was addressed to her, so she stopped working once again. She looked away from the table and at the person who called for her. He stood a few feet away, on the other side of the table. The caller was the Erudite man that was lagging behind. He was middle-aged man, if she had to guess he was around her parents' ages. His light brown hair was carefully styled and his greying temples were handled as well. His fair skin held a healthy sheen. Like most men from that faction, he was dressed stylishly, and of course, in blue. He wore a navy blue three-piece suit that was tailored for his tall and broad form. She noticed that he wore weight well. He wasn't as buff as a typical Dauntless man, but he did exude strength. Once she eyed the extravagant-looking, gold pin on his left lapel, she understood. 'He's a leader. That's why those Erudites were comfortable enough to come here. It also explains why that bottle-blonde, crazy-eyed bitch wasn't here.'

"Yes, sir?" she greeted him, with a cautious smile that was reserved for strangers. She strolled over to the man.

"Are you Davina's and Goliath's daughter?" the Erudite leader inquired.

'How does he know?' Her eyes widened. Her reaction caused the man to chuckle. "Yes, yes sir, I am." Her eyes did a fast scan at the three men that stood a few feet behind him. The three Dauntless figures were now focused on them. Nothing gathered the faction members' attentions quicker than the mentions of her parents' names, especially her father's. She stared up at the man again.

The gentleman held his left hand close to his right breast pocket before spoke again. "You most likely don't remember me at all. The last time I saw you, you were…" The same hand made a gesture to illustrate how small she was at that time. "…this high and you were barely three years old," he informed her. His eyes did a brief widening while his mouth did an 'o'. "I am so sorry for being rude. I had forgotten to introduce myself." He extended his left hand in front of him for Nasira to shake. "My name is Lysander Mott, I am one of the leaders for—

"Erudite," she blurted out. She pointed to his blazer while she shook his hand. "The suit's color gives it away," she explained while a light giggle was attached to her statement.

Lysander glimpsed down at his chest before chuckling himself. "Well, yes, it does give me away."

"Sssoooo, you knew my dad?" she stated as their hands mutually departed.

The Erudite leader shook his head. "Yes, and I know your mom too. We grew up together— Well, not _'together'_ together ever since I was raised in Erudite, your mom was raised in Amity and your father was a Dauntless-born. But we've known each other since we were kids because we all were in the same schools and the same classes. We even managed to stay friends even after our initiations. Our friendships were not as strong anymore once we all started our families, but we did keep in contact. With your parents, it was especially easy due to their titles…" He suddenly chuckled. His eyes displayed a healthy sheen and warmth in them. "I remember when your dad had to bring you to a factions' leaders meeting, because they couldn't find a sitter for you. You managed to sneak into the board room and you hid underneath the table, making animal noises…"

Even though she couldn't remember the moment, she just knew that the event did occur. It definitely sounded like something she would do.

"…How is your mother?"

Nasira was grateful for Lysander's inquiry because it gave her a distraction from the dark emotion that was rising to the surface. She didn't want to remember her father because it would've led to the memories of the night that he was taken from her. "She's fine. She is still doing her job as if she just got it yesterday. She's… uh… had a few setbacks—

A look of concern morphed Lysander's facial features. "Oh no, I hope that everything is alright now," he softly stated.

She nodded her head. "Yeah, she's alright now. It was, um…" She lightly scratched the back of her neck. "…it was ovarian cancer. But, she's fine now and is in remission. She has been in remission since November of last year."

He committed a deep inhale and a soft exhale. "That's good. That's very good for her and for all of you," he sighed. "I haven't seen her in a while now, since I've been busy with this _'divergent-thing'_ …"

'There goes that word again.'

"…and with Ms. Matthews' side projects. Hopefully, I will be seeing her at the Diplomatic Banquet, next month. I know that she goes every year. Will you be attending the dinner this year?" asked Lysander.

'Oh goodness no! I would rather eat glass.'

"Probably not," was Nasira's most diplomatic answer. "Normally, I'll be working on that night, ever since it is one of the most popular days which mostly everybody takes off, besides Christmas. Besides, my brother Rogue always takes her to that shindig, as her date."

"Awww, it would be a shame if you don't attend this year. I remember when you and your friend did that little dance that one year. It was… entertaining, to say the least," he pointed out.

More memories bubbled up to the surface, for Nasira. The event that Lysander had brought up was the first one. She was a few months shy of turning sixteen years old, the sign that she was eligible for the Choosing Ceremony. So, she wanted to spend her last six months in Dauntless living her life like a faction member, which meant being fearless and brave. She knew that she was going to transfer to Amity, so she wanted to leave a lasting impression. One of the actions she chose to commit was performing a choreographed dance with her best friend Malachi, another Dauntless-born who was going to transfer out. Both teens were avid followers of the American culture, the one that occurred hundreds of years before the war. Especially, the music and the dances that were born from those years. At the Diplomatic Banquet, they chose to perform dances from the 1940's 'Big Band era', which was something that wasn't well-known amongst the current society.

She remembered the exhilarating feelings that she felt running through her body as she danced. She recalled the expressions of other guests' faces as they watched the two teens in stylish, black formal wear danced. For her, this action was reckless and unbridled. Since the age of adolescence, she was overbearingly instructed to not to stick out and to blend into society. For that night, she was rebellious.

Nasira smiled warmly as the memories floated through her head. "Thank you. It was a wonderful night for me."

Lysander smiled as well. "Well, I have to leave and go back to my faction now," he announced. He rolled his eyes. "Work and duty calls, you know."

She giggled. "It's been nice talking to you, Mr. Mott."

"It's been wonderful to speak to you and to see you again, Nasira." Once again, he shook her hand. "May you please tell your mother that I said 'hello'?"

"Yes, I will tell her," she said with a nod of her head. "Have a good day, Mr. Mott," she said to him as their hands separated.

"You too, Miss Grant." His eyelids fluttered and let out an un-gentlemanly huff. "I just called you 'Miss Grant' right now and I just realized that I am old."

Nasira laughed. "Goodbye, Mr. Mott."

Lysander Mott gave her a quick farewell and then he re-joined the Dauntless leaders. She returned to her task, which was restoring all of the equipment back on the rolling cart. Her attention did turn back to the men, when she saw them leave out of the conference room. 'Now I'm all alone,' she said to herself.

She was in the process of placing a rolled up USB cord on the cart, when she heard the sound of the door opening. She glanced over her right shoulder to see the new visitor. Her chestnut brown-colored eyes ended up meeting a pair of blue ones. 'Oh,' her brain whimpered. She turned her body away from the cart. Her spine aligned itself straighter and her shoulders unintentionally grew straighter while a level of rigidity permeated through the rest of her body. Her reaction, she knew, was normal. After all, it was a lesson of etiquette that was engrained in her by her parents. Then, when she was an initiate going through her initiation process, it was reinforced by the trainers, so the kids would know what to do when a faction leader entered the room.

She silently calculated that he was, at least, twelve feet away from where she was standing. He was closest to the other end of the long conference table while she was closest to the pair of conference room doors, the ones that she walked through earlier. She figured that she was lighter than him and much quicker, so she had the opportunity to escape this room, if she needed to leave. Her eyes did a rapid perusal of his physique, starting from his aquiline nose down to his hidden groin. 'If I can't get away then I'll have to go for the throat and then the eyes. He'll more likely think that I will go for his dick first. Yeah, the eyes will work.'

"G-Good afternoon, Sir," she greeted him. She forced her tone of voice to go soft and to sound less confident. It was the same tone that she used, whenever she had to deal with Rafe or anybody else that held a higher role than hers. From when she was a child, she learned that the meek and humbled façade worked better than her normal behavior, for some interactions. Especially, if those interactions were with egotistical authority figures.

"Good afternoon, ma'am," the young faction leader responded. He sounded polite, but she knew it was a ruse.

'He's probably this way with old ladies before he drags into dark alleyways and mug them.' A weak smile graced her lips as she eyed him. He continued to remain rooted in his spot. His eyes were focused on her. He kept his hands behind his back as if he wanted her to believe that he could've been hiding something. She waited for the leader and serial eye-fucker to state his purpose for being in the conference room. 'Okay, so what do you want, cupcake?' When a pregnant amount of awkward silence between the two had passed, she figured that he was there to oversee. So she had gone back to working.

"Excuse me…"

Nasira flashed her eyes on him.

"…I'm sorry for interrupting…" His eyes did a quick two-step dance between her face and her hands. "…your work. My name…"

" _Please allow me to introduce myself…"_

The sung words were only in her mind, but it was so clear that it could've been playing in real life. She was familiar with the song. It was by a band that were very popular, hundreds of years ago, called The Rolling Stones. It was a song that her late father used to immensely enjoy listening to, almost every day of his life. She didn't understand why she had this particular earworm.

"…is Eric Coulter and I am—

"I know who you are," she blurted out. She took note of the confidence in her voice. 'Easy,' her conscience warned in the form of a growl. She even saw the flash of a warning in his cerulean eyes, as well as, his irritation for interrupting him. "I-I'm sorry for interrupting you," she said softly, returning to her 'Meek the Mouse' persona. "I-I remember who you are. I had gone to your matriculation dinner, for when you were given the role as…leader."

"Earned," he pronounced with a slight snarl to his top lip.

Her eyes widened while a cloud of confusion covered them. "I'm sorry?"

"You said that I was _given_ my role as leader. You're incorrect. I _earned_ my title," he explained.

Nasira resisted the urge to roll her eyes at him. 'Given… Earned. It doesn't fucking matter at this point. I say 'tomato'. You say 'toe-mott-toe'. Like I said…' She licked her bottom lip, in an absent-minded way. "I was at your matriculation dinner with my parents…and my uncle, Xerxes," she informed him. She wanted Eric to know about her special connection to this faction, in case he thought that he could lay his meaty paws on her without dealing with any repercussions.

Eric chuckled and then bowed his head a little. For a second, she believed that he was aware of her intentions behind the name-dropping act. He stopped laughing as he lifted his head. "I know who your parents are," he educated her. "Your mother is this faction's Diplomatic Allegiant Supreme, the highest ranking ambassador that this faction has. Your late father was our faction's leader of defense. In fact…" He made several long strides in her direction. "… I know your _entire_ family history. After all, it is a part of our faction's history and we all must learn it. I know that you and your brothers are the direct descendants of one of our faction's founding fathers, January Grant the First. I also know that Max is another." He made a pair of methodical steps, once again in the same direction. His eyes were focused on her. Nasira saw the malevolent amusement in them. "I also know a few personal things about you too."

The statement caused her curiosity to become aroused. Totally forgetting about her act of being meek, she questioned him. "Like?"

A smile grew on his face and it caused her skin to pucker. "I know that when you were an initiate, your final place setting was in the twentieth spot. You barely passed the initiation process even though you were fully equipped to take the top spot, if you wanted to. You had the natural capability to become a leader like your father. Or, to become an ambassador like your mother. After all, you're capable of altering your character in order to please people and make them comfortable…" He removed his left hand from around his back. His hand gestured towards her. "…Like the act that you were doing just now…"

'Shit... Son-of a-bitch!'

"…But instead, you chose to be an... _IT technician_ , which is one step above the role of a lowly servant. Hell…" Eric looked to his left and then his right before going back to staring at her. "…you could've picked working in the Control Room. But you've chosen to spend the rest of your life fixing projectors..." His right hand gestured to the machine that was on the conference table. "...fixing copy machines and sitting in a cubicle for the rest of your life…" He approached a chair that was tucked in. He pulled the chair out and arrogantly sat down. "…I also know that you're called 'Meek the Mouse' by the other faction members, because of your introvert attitude. You're consider to be a defect around here. 'You're not Dauntless.' That's what they say, right? You don't hang out with other members. You're quiet and you keep to yourself. You don't have any piercings or tattoos. Is that right?"

Her anger was burning a hole into the pit of her stomach. She so desperately wanted to tell this egotistical prick where he could take his assessment and go. Instead, her fists clenched tightly. Her eyes did a glimpse at the doors again.

"You don't have to worry about me."

Nasira glared at him.

"I'm not here to hurt you," he explained to her. "And if I did…" His hands moved to rest against the back of his head. "…wanted to hurt you, I could." He leaned his chair back. "There's another thing that I know about you."

"Oh really, what's this one thing, darling?" she muttered with a snarky energy attached to it.

A smug chortle came from his lips. His left index finger pointed at her. She wanted to break it. "You… You have your eye out for a certain fellow…"

'Patrick…' Suddenly, a clear resolution to her earlier problem finally reached her. He wasn't staring at her during the meeting. He was focused on Patrick.

"…a certain IT person that used to work in the Control Room until he was transferred…"

Her brow crumpled up in confusion. 'What does he want from me?'

"… Am I right?" he said with a small grin.

"What do you want from me?" she asked with a nonchalant lilt to her voice. She appeared calm but she wasn't. She was fed up with Eric's game.

He made a grunt. "What makes you think that I want something?"

'Okay, so if this fucker wants to play head games with me, then it's my turn.' Nasira sighed. She walked over to the table, where she casually leaned against the edge. Her arms crossed under her chest. "Because you've never spoken to me before, a lowly IT tech person that is _one step away from being a lowly servant..."_ She glimpsed at him and saw the glare of indignation in his eyes. "...You've never actively sought me out before this moment. And judging by the reputation that you have, it's safe to say that you're not the type to personally seek anybody out anyway. It's an action that you consider to be beneath you. Then there's the fact that you kept staring at Patrick during your meeting, as if you wanted to rip his head off…" She stared straight ahead, at the doors. The corners of her lips turned upwards to form a smile. "…and that doesn't make any sense to me. So, I've been thinking about it. Of course, you probably couldn't tell because you were in the process of stroking your own…Ego, to notice me. I've been thinking—

"About what?" His voice was calm, but it held a noticeable level of coldness. The tone caused Nasira to doubt her impending actions, for a second. It caused her to acknowledge the fact that she didn't know how he would react.

She glanced at him. His gaze was steady and heavy as he surveyed her. Weirdly, the gaze caused her to go forward. "I began thinking about why you don't like Patrick. Why would…" She changed her position. She moved to sit on the table and she tucked her right foot underneath her left thigh and had her right leg bent at the knee. She was now facing her leader full-on. "…someone, who holds a highly-respected title in our faction, dislike this one _lowly_ IT guy?" Her vision landed on his hands. They were gripping the chair's armrests in a tight fashion. She eyed his jawline and took note of the multiple twitches that his jawbone made. He was angry. She proceeded with glee. "Then I understood—

"What?" Again, there was that tone in his voice.

Nasira crossed her arms. "He has something that you want. Then I thought of the type of stuff that he could have that _you would want_ , but then I realize that your salary is _wwwwwaaaaayyyy_ more than Patrick's and mine's combined. And then it hit me: love. He has love..." Her face slightly frowned up. "...Well, he has a particular woman, _actually_ …A woman that you want for yourself..." She observed his reaction. He confirmed her theory by glancing at the windows, a sign of guilt. Her spirit smiled. "This chick? Her name is Anissa Howard?" Then she decided to throw his words back at him. " _Am I right?"_

Instead of answering her, whether by his words or by his glares or even with his fists, the young leader remained silent. Well, for a moment.

"For someone who is from Dauntless…" His face did a turn so quickly, she was sure that he was going to suffer from a sore neck later on. "…you sure do exhibit Erudite qualities…" A cruel smile formed on his lips while a light danced away in his eyes. "…and Amity qualities, as well as, Abnegation."

Her anger rose as she understood the silent implication of his words. He was lowkey calling her a divergent.

"What did you get on your aptitude test?" he questioned.

'It's none of your damn business,' was her silent admission. "Nothing," she answered through her clenched jaw. She didn't want to have this conversation with him. Nasira was aware that this would bring back some awful memories. She didn't want to go there with him, especially _him_. But she was aware that this Dauntless transfer would take her there while she proverbially kicked and screamed.

"Nothing?" He smiled. "Bullshit," he spewed. "As your leader, I demand that you tell me about your results."

Nasira turned her attention to the doors. Her ears picked up the sound of a chair's hinges squeaking. Before her body could make an appropriate reaction, she felt his heated, callused hand on her neck and his body heat pressed against her front. Her hands immediately wrapped around the wrist that was connected to the offending hand. Her startled eyes focused on his face, which was a few centimeters apart from hers.

"Tell me about your test results," he said slowly and calmly. She felt as if she was a dumb child who was being scolded by her mother.

"I don't have any test re—

Her statement was cut off by his growl-like groan. She knew it was a warning call. His hand's grip tightened around her throat. Her eyes bulged in their sockets while a strangled cry escaped from her parted lips. She felt her esophagus fold under the pressure.

With a voice that was strained and hoarse, she cried out "Will you fucking listen to me?! I don't have a test result because I've never taken the damn test, that's why! It was on the day before, when I was in my accident! On the day of the aptitude testing, I was laid up in an Erudite hospital after going through eight hours of surgery, just so my fucking skull wouldn't fall apart on me and to keep my knee from being fucked up for the rest of my life! You should fucking know this! After all, _you know everything about me and my family,_ ol' fearless leader!" She was well aware of her brazen act of disrespect towards the faction leader, as she spoke. She just didn't care at the moment. She expected for Eric to remove himself from her personal space, but he remained there. So she gave him some inspiration to move by shoving his chest. Her actions didn't make an impact. His hand still remained on her throat while he still occupied her personal bubble.

"Careful," he growled. "You just assaulted a leader, who is also an acting officer—

She snorted in disbelief. Then she chuckled. "You're standing in between my legs, practically about to step a foot pass my cervix and you have your sweaty-ass paw around my throat. The most a Candor judge would say about this situation is that you were about to rape me…" She saw the expression of disgust cross his face. "…or we were about to engage in a case of rough sex in a public setting. Now if you don't want to experience that, then I advise you to…" She shoved at him again. "…get off of me!" She witnessed the backward motions that his feet made after the push. His hand unleashed her throat. Her hands automatically surveyed the potential damage. Her eyes stayed on him. "Now tell me what do you want from me, Eric?"

He regained his steely composure. He crossed his brawny arms over his broad chest. "You're gonna help me with something…"

*~oMLo~*

As Nasira walked down the corridors that led to the leaders' office-suites, she continued to think about Eric and his actions that occurred within this past year and a half.

Eventually she learned that Eric Coulter was carrying out an affair with Anissa, Patrick's girlfriend, an assumption that was formed on the day of that board meeting. Using the wee hours of the mornings, her lunch breaks, lies and manipulated circumstances, they were together for the past four years. For whatever reasons, Eric came to the decision that he wanted Anissa for himself only. He "claimed" that he chosen the "honorable way" of trying to have her end her relationship, at first: he expressed his love to her and his desire to be with her, as well as, given her an ultimatum. She refused to end her relationship with Patrick, but she did express her love for Eric. He also "claimed" that he did follow through with his end of the ultimatum, which was severing all forms of contact with Anissa. He only lasted for about a month before he had gone back. For three extra years, the leader played by her rules and now he was back to wanting her to be his 'one and only'. Or rather, for Eric to be Anissa's 'one and only'.

Now Eric had the desire to be the one factor that would end the relationship between Patrick and Anissa. But he didn't want to be the one who had his hands dirty, because it would reflect poorly on him. He needed to keep up with the appearance of being an intimidating and fearless leader. The last thing that he wanted was for the faction's population to think of him as being a love-struck fool, who might be incapable of keeping his emotions in check. Eric was aware that Anissa wasn't going to be the person to pull the trigger, which was terminating the relationship. The Dauntless faction leader figured it had to be Patrick. He wanted the overgrown Abnegation-raised, bumbling idiot to be the one to destroy it. However, he didn't know how to make that one thing happen. He thought up a couple of ideas, but all of which would reveal his involvement in the matter. It wasn't until that meeting with Erudite, on that particular day, when a new plan was born. He claimed that it was born at the moment, when he surveyed Nasira as she stared at Patrick during the presentation.

The plan was for Nasira to seduce Patrick to the point where he was amicable to all of her whims, one of which included the termination of his relationship with Anissa. Eric assumed that Anissa would want to pursue a relationship with him, by this point. Meanwhile Nasira would have Patrick, her crush, all to herself.

Once she heard Eric's plan, she automatically thought it was a bad idea. Nasira thought _"Dauntless' most feared leader"_ was behaving like a weak-minded idiot, who was about to unleased a shit-load of strife within the faction because he wanted an over-glorified, Dauntless meat-trap. And she told exactly how she felt about his plan. Then, she made the mistake of allowing Eric to 'convince' her to participate in his plan.

According to him, Patrick was already feeling the attraction for Nasira, judging by his willingness to place her in hugs and to touch her. All she had to do was stroke those fires a little bit more. Plus, he managed to appeal to her by stating that Anissa deserved to be with a man that was more compatible to her. That one point served as a driving point for her choice in helping Eric.

Patrick did deserve to be with someone better while Anissa deserved to be with Eric, ever since both of them were immoral, tasteless ass-bags.

'Well, you're no better,' her conscience pointed out.

Nasira snorted and then laughed. Her hands cupped the bottom of her protruding belly. "Well, I'm about to pay for my participation in about three more we— Aaaah-ah!" She came to a sudden stop after the first lash of pain had sliced through her gut. A shaky, full breath escaped her. 'Remember what the doctor told you… Braxton-Hicks contractions. They're not the real things. They happen all of the time,' her conscience reported. The pain diminished into a sense of discomfort. The throbbing sensation spread across her stomach to her hips and lower back. 'Make it over to that wall,' her conscience instructed. Her eyes darted over to the stoned wall that were a foot away. She waddled over and pressed her forehead against the smooth wall. 'God, this feels good across my skin,' she silently said to herself as she rubbed her skin against the cold wall. Her fingertips pressed firm circles into hips to alleviate the discomfort. Once the throbbing ebbed and her usual state of comfort returned, she released a hard exhale between her lips. Her hands did a full sweep of her belly. 'I'm almost there. In a few weeks, I'll be a mommy. I'll have him in my arms finally.' Her unborn son's father flashed across her mind's eye. 'Ugh, speaking of which…'

"Good morning," she greeted the secretary as she approached the woman's desk, fifteen minutes later.

"Good morning." The tone was flat and unenthusiastic.

Nasira couldn't tell if the woman didn't like her job or she just didn't like her. She stood there and gave a quick visual appraisal of Eric's assistant. Unlike the receptionist that sat at the desk in the front, this woman was dressed as if she was the assistant to a leader. She wore a silk, buttoned blouse that held ruffles on the front and a pair of black satin pants. Both were in all black of course. Her makeup was minimal: black lipstick and black eyeliner that highlighted her brown eyes. The abstract tattoo that covered her left temple and cheek made her skin appear paler. Her jet black hair was styled in a pixie cut.

"I am from the Software—

"I know where you're from," the secretary informed her. "Lucia from the front just called me."

Nasira's lips twitched. 'I see that a lot of rude people work in this part of—

"Besides, I was the one who called your department about the tablet," she further explained. "My boss' communication device has been giving him some trouble."

"I understand, Miss and I can ensure you that I will do my best to—

"I'm sure you will," she said in a cold tone, once again cutting Nasira off. "I'm also sure that you and your little department knows how imperative it is for my boss, _your leader_ , to get this device back as soon as possible."

She nodded her head. "Yes, I do understand that this is very important. And he will get this device back… Before the end of today." She expressed herself with an equally cold tone. 'Lady, I don't have time for your bullshit. I am having mild pain. My kid's head keeps head-butting my cervix with every step I make and my ankles are sore.'

The secretary's onyx-painted lips created a smirk while her throat hummed out an "Mmm". Her eyes flickered over to the desk's phone and she did a glimpse before picking up the receiver. Her left index finger pressed several buttons from off the keypad.

'What-the-fuck is she doing now? Is she calling security on me?!'

Nasira received her answer, when the secretary spoke into the mouthpiece. "Good morning again Sir, please pardon my interruption. I have the person from the…" She paused. It was obvious that the person on the other end of the line was speaking. "Yes Sir… Okay, I'll let her know… Bye Sir." The secretary placed the receiver back on the cradle. She stared at Nasira. "My boss would like to speak to you."

" **FFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUCCCCCKKKKKKK!** ' her brain wailed from the anguish it felt.

Nasira didn't even bother to refrain from closing her eyes and then grimacing, in reaction. She really hoped that this device retrieval process would've been easy. Most leaders would leave their broken devices with their assistants.

"Is there anything wrong, Miss?"

Nasira could hear the sickly sweetness in her tone. The bitch was enjoying this. She was enjoying watching her emotionally unravel.

The mom-to-be popped open her eyes and glanced at the woman. She quickly smoothed out her features. "No. I'm fine."

The secretary used her pen to point in the direction in which Nasira supposed to travel. The pregnant woman didn't bother to say anything else. She turned away from the sadistic bitch in black and walked in the direction in which Eric's office was located.

If Nasira had to describe Eric's office, then she would use the term 'funeral home chic'. It reminded her of a funeral home waiting area with its black marble walls, black marble flooring and black furniture.

"Pick up your feet."

She came to a stop and she glanced at her feet. The sounds of her chunky sneakers' soles were slapping up against the floor and causing echoes in his office. Her brain only acknowledged the sounds for a millisecond before he spoke.

Eric's tone reminded her of her father, when he used to scold her as a child. But unlike with her father's scolding, she did not feel embarrassed and regretful for making him angry. This time, she felt anger and a bit homicidal. 'I think that I can blame my hormones at my Candor, murder trial.' Nasira methodically strolled up to the front of his desk and stood there. She detected that her thirty-seventh week old belly was hovering over his desk and was on the verge of knocking over the few items that he kept on the surface. Her eyes did a subtle observation of her stomach before she had taken a gander at Eric. Even from where he sat and from where she stood, she felt the aura of power that spilled from him. He treated his rolling executive chair like it was a throne. To the naïve eye, he looked relaxed. But she knew better. He was far from being relaxed. Judging from the tightness and the twitching from his quadriceps, he was ready to make a move, if he needed to make one. 'Why would he…? You know what, just be professional towards him and see what he wants.'

Nasira made a smile that never reached her eyes. "Good morning, Sir. I am from—

"I know what you're here for," he told her, cutting her off.

It was a simple motion, but it left an impact: a fluttering sensation in her stomach, near her navel. She believed that Eric's voice encouraged her son to start moving. A low sigh fell from her mouth. Her left hand trembled while it hang by her side, an action that kept her from touching her stomach. She didn't want to draw any more attention to her belly.

"From my understanding, it is your tablet that is giving you problems? Is that correct?" she asked him. Her voice was steady even though her insides felt shakier than an earthquake, courtesy of her son.

"Yes," he curtly stated. His right hand opened a desk drawer and he dug through the contents. "It's not working." As he stared at his probing hand's actions, he didn't notice his guest's shifting.

Nasira shifted her weight between both of her feet, nervously. Her son decided to use this moment to try to get comfortable in her womb. In the process, the unborn child was given his mother consistent abdominal and rib discomfort. Her eyes did a rapid surveillance of her stomach. She spotted an abnormal lump on her left side. 'Alright buddy, you are really showing out to—Fuck, that one hurt!' A low hiss escaped from her lips just as tremor of pain broke out on her left flank. Her right hand reached across the bulge and her fingers tended to the sore spot. Her fingers rubbed at the spot, in hopes of trying to convince her baby to move.

"Problem?"

She looked away from her stomach and gazed into the Dauntless leader's eyes. He was back in his comfortable pose, except he held a device in his hand. 'Your son decided to be a comedian right now,' she thought. But she said, "No problem at all, Sir".

A small smile shown up on his face, in response. His hand presented the device to her. "Here it is," he simply stated. "I expect for this device to be return to me before I leave this office today."

Nasira leaned a little towards the desk in order to grab the tablet from him. Eric gave the item up without a problem. The glint in his eyes, however, told her that he was about to engage in some mischief. She tucked the device underneath her left arm.

"Now that we have that bit of business out of the way, let's…Talk," he proposed.

A wave of dread filled her up. A knot lodged itself into her throat while her mouth found difficulty to remain moist. "What do you want to talk about?" she asked while staring dumbly at him.

Eric propped his left elbow on the desktop and brought his left hand to his chin. His amusement was evident. "Nasira, please don't put on the dumb act. You know what I want to talk about."

"Then we have nothing to talk about," she informed him with a more confident voice.

His left eyebrow twitched. His lips smirked. "We have _nothing_ to talk about?"

'Damn straight! This is my son!' She shook her head. "We have nothing else to talk about, Sir."

Eric didn't speak immediately. He just stared at her. For Nasira, she was sure that he was attempting to intimidate her. He wanted her to confess about her baby's paternity. After a solid minute of silence between the two, he gruffly sighed. He removed his hand from his chin and then he leaned his upper body forward. "Let's get to the point, shall we? This child? Is it mine?"

"No," she blurted out.

"That was too quick," he told her with pursed lips. He was taunting her.

'I don't care.' Nasira was fed up. She sighed and gave him a deadpanned glance. "Do you need anything else, Sir?"

Once again, he just stared at her. "Are you sure that you want to take this route?"

She sensed the implied threat. She really wanted to beat the shit out of him. She glimpsed at the ceiling and then at her leader again. "When it comes to this baby…" She cradled her stomach in her hands for emphasis. His eyes tracked the movements. "…right here, he is mine. This is _my baby! My son!"_ she growled, a sign that her maternal instinct to protect her baby was on full display. "You want an answer? Fine, here's one: You're not his father. So you can stop losing any sleep over it. Besides…" She had taken a few steps away from his desk. "…Your bull wasn't the only one that visited my stable." She watched his face crumpled with confusion. Rather than explaining her statement's meaning, she chosen to allow his natural Erudite talent for logic to do it for him. "Is there anything else that you need... _sir_?" she repeated, a sign that their previous conversation was over.

"No. You can leave," he announced after making her become a victim to another one of his gazes.

'Thank the Lord!'

She gave Eric another glimpse and then she headed to the office's door. Just when she was about to enter her salvation which was on the other side, he called out for her.

"Nasira."

She paused. A huff and an eye roll later, she turned around. She saw that he was still seated. He was also giving her one of his soul-penetrating stares.

"Eventually, I will find out the truth. All I have to do is wait…" His head slightly tilted to the right and his eyes focused on the huge mound that she was carrying. "…maybe a few more weeks?"

Nasira's only response was leaving his office.


	2. Chapter 2

*~oMLo~*

'I had to deal with one jackass already, so let's deal with the other five!'

Nasira's left thumb pressed the smooth plastic button that was the doorbell and then waited on the doorstep that led to her mother's lavish apartment. She didn't have to wait too long because less than fifteen seconds, the front door opened to reveal her younger brother, Rogue.

"Well if it's not my favorite big sister!" he cheerily greeted.

"I'm your only—

She was swallowed up in his embrace. Her front was pushed up against his muscled torso.

"Rogue!" she screamed into his chest as she forcefully inhaled the fumes of his cologne. Her hands frantically slapped at his ribs. "Let m—

"Dante and Trudy are here with the baby," he blurted out in a hushed tone to her hairline.

Her hands stopped hitting him and she stopped struggling. 'SssshhhhHHHIT!' her brain hissed harshly.

"Mama told him about… You, already. He's pissed to the highest power. She told him to not to say anything to you because it wasn't his business. She told him that it is up to you to provide him any info about the baby," he informed his sister. "You don't have nothing to worry about. I got your back. If push comes to shove, then I'll punch that old geezer in his bad back anyway. I will—

"Rogue! Nasira!"

Both brother and sister abruptly separated and then glanced behind them, into the apartment. Each pair of eyes spotted the older woman standing in the doorway. She had her hands on her hips and a look of chastisement on her face.

"If you don't get out of that doorway—

"Sorry, Mama!"

"Sorry, Mommy!"

Both siblings apologized simultaneously to their mother before they entered the foyer of the apartment. Rogue walked up to their mother while Nasira closed the front door. The harsh expression disappeared from her mother's face as she waddled up to the Grant matriarch. It was replaced with a look of pleasant emotions.

"Look at you!" her mother swooned as she gazed at her only daughter. Her hands were reaching for Nasira. "You've gotten so… _BIG_!"

"Mama!" Rogue shrieked in mild horror from their mother's social faux pas. "I'm not a woman and even I know not to call a pregnant woman 'big'!"

Mrs. Grant playfully smacked her son's brawny arm. "She knows what I mean!" She turned back to her daughter. "Oh, I didn't know that you were going to be showing so much by now! Oooh, this baby is going to be huge! He's going to be like all of y'all!" The woman shook her head and hummed a sound of pity. "Your poor vagina."

Both Rogue and Nasira gifted their mother with horrified glares.

"What?!" The Grant matriarch glimpsed at both of her children. "It's true! All of y'all weighed a ton and had those melon-sized noggins, when y'all were born! I remember screaming bloody murder at each birth because it was so painful! People used to tell me that ' _us, mothers_ ' would forget about the pain, once we see our babies for the first time… Yeah right! My vagina was like—

"Mommy!"

"Mama!"

Both kids shouted, their voices echoing off the walls.

In the corner of her eye, Nasira noticed a large figure step into the corridor that was attached to the foyer, right behind her mother.

"Mama, is everything alright?"

Dante's natural baritone voice penetrated the atmosphere, bringing a sense of tension along with it. Soon, his bulky six-foot-five inch frame entered the foyer. Nasira noticed the look of paternal authority that was etched into his typical handsome face and how it was aimed towards her.

"Nasira," he greeted.

Her own face morphed into an expression of contempt. "Dante."

Mrs. Grant stared at Dante and Nasira. "Oh, you two stop it!" she warned. "We are here to celebrate and both of you won't ruin it by acting like two stubborn, insubordinate asses!"

Rogue grimaced. "Ooh, Mama's angry! She's breaking out the big words and everything!"

"Rogue, hush!" their mother scolded. She addressed all three of her children with a "By the way, dinner is ready!" before leaving the foyer.

The youngest Grant sibling glanced at both of his older ones. "You heard what Mama said: Behave!" he mock chastised the both of them. Then he proceeded to walk out of the room.

"Boy, if you don't get cha ass out…" Dante groaned as he followed his younger brother.

Nasira watched her two brothers do a friendly sparring session as they traveled to the dining room. 'Please let that be the only fighting that goes on for tonight.'

Unfortunately for her, good luck continued to evade her, despite being in a festive environment. Her mother, with the help of Dante and his wife, made a banquet-like feast for tonight's dinner. For a pregnant Nasira and her greedy five brothers, this was a scene from a dream. As they ate plates of food, she managed to reconnect with her brothers Trigger, Samson, Goliath the Second and Rogue, all Dauntless members but with very prominent roles in the defense department. She managed to interact with her sister-in-law Trudy and her eighteen month-old niece, Nova. She even managed to down two servings of food before the level of good vibes had gone to shit, for the rest of the evening.

"So, when are we going to meet your boyfriend, Nassy?" Samson inquired.

"Here we go," mumbled Rogue, under his breath while holding his wine glass.

"Sammy, allow your sister to eat in peace," Mrs. Grant told her second oldest son.

"Mama, he has a point," Dante pointed out.

Trudy placed a soft hand on her husband's right forearm. "Honey," she said softly, warning him.

Samson disregarded their mother's suggestion. After filling his glass with wine, he said "Does he live within our faction? Is this why we haven't met him already?"

"Of course he lives in our faction! It's against the rules to be with a person from another faction," Rogue pointed out while discreetly eyeing his eldest brother's face.

"That's not what I've heard," mumbled Dante as he sawed a piece of grilled chicken with a knife, from his plate.

Nasira's dark brown eyes narrowed as she glared at her oldest brother.

When their sister didn't answer any of his inquiries, Samson hummed an "Hmmm?"

To diffuse an already escalating hostile situation, their mother looked at Samson. "Sammy, she will bring him around when she's good and ready… Now finish eating…" She scanned the faces of the table's occupants. "…All of you."

Dante tossed his eating utensils onto the table in a fit of frustration. Everyone stopped eating once the abrasive sounds penetrated the air. They all stared at the oldest, hulk of a man that was sitting at the table. He threw his hands up and then said, "Mama, I can't stay quiet any longer!" He glanced at Nasira and then back at their mother. "I can't stay quiet anymore… Especially when there is a rumor going around saying that she's slept with some waiter, over in Erudite, from some party!"

Nasira squeezed the stainless steel fork out of anger. Her eyes narrowed and she dug her teeth into her bottom lip. Despite it being sent to oblivion like most gossip that had gone on between the citizens, she still wasn't fond of that rumor.

Mrs. Grant snorted in disbelief. "Only small minds believe that rumor…" She sipped some wine from her glass. "…and besides, the only reason why people are talking is because she was dancing with her friend, Malachi…" She glowered at her oldest son. "…and it wasn't a party! It was the Diplomatic Banquet."

"But still, she is pregnant with no husband in sight!" Dante pointed out.

"The last time I've checked…" All eyes stared at the expecting mother-to-be. Nasira refused to look at anyone. She observed her half-eaten lump of mashed potatoes. "…a man doesn't have to be married to a woman in order to make a baby. _Shit_ , _we live in Dauntless_ , the land of reckless behavior."

"Yeah, you're right about that," Dante sneered. "Any old raggedy-mangy dude from off of the street can impregnate a woman. What I am asking you about, _smart-ass_ , is the involvement of your unborn son's father."

Nasira continued to swirl her fork's tines into the creamy confection. The tension grew thicker as the seconds passed.

"How are you going to raise a boy on your own?! You know that this kid will grow up with a shit load of obstacles in his way! You know this! Erudite has recently released new stat—

Rogue decided it was time to stick up for his sister. "He has me! Whatever that kid needs—

"Rogue, shut up!" growled Samson while eyeing his younger brother. He glared at his sister. "Dante is right, you know. And Rogue is somewhat right in a way: he does have us. But, we will be _his uncles and not his father_. He will want to have his dad in his life, Nassy. We could play basketball with him, take to him to the pier, spar with him and show him how to be a man. But he's gonna eventually say that he would like for his dad to be there. I mean, if you want a clearer example, _take us_ for example. We had one of the best dads there was: _Goliath Grant_! You know this, Nassy! Do you think that any of our uncles could replace our dad's spot?"

At the mentioning of their father, memories upon memories flooded her mind. She kept seeing her father's smiling face and hearing faded remnants of his voice as he laughed or spoke. She began to relieve the scent of his cologne when he hugged her. The image of her hand holding his as they walked to his SUV, back when they were on Amity. The relief that clouded her spirit after she received the news that her parents were pleased with her choice of heading to the faction of peace. The smell of blood and the sounds of his gagging filled up her subconscious. Her hands began to tremble while her vision of the mashed potatoes became blurry.

Something in her caused her wall of polite decorum to crumble. She turned her attention away from her plate of food and she gazed across the table to Dante. "You don't think that I know this already?! I know that my son will grow up facing risks and disadvantages! He has a defective mother and an absent father and he comes from a family of self-righteous, perfect people! But, I am going to raise him in the best way that I can! So, fuc—You know what, I'm leaving!"

Nasira rose from her seat and walked out of the dining room to the sounds of her family protesting. She didn't give any of them a response. She didn't even give her mother a decent farewell. When she stepped out of her mother's apartment building and took note of the decently lit sky, she realized just how early it still was, for the evening. She didn't want to go home just yet. She needed to vent and she knew which person to talk with.

*~oMLo~*

Nasira knew that her long-time friend, Malachi would've been up for a decent conversation. However, getting to him was going to require a bit of trickery, ever since he was an Erudite member now. It required a bit of a costume change and she was smart enough to keep a good one in her jeep. When she was a few blocks away from Erudite's territory, she pulled up in an abandoned gas station's parking lot and she changed out of her Dauntless black and into Erudite blue. She decorated her oval-shaped face with her pair of eyeglasses, before she resumed her traveling.

As she drew closer to Malachi's apartment complex, she grew antsy. Her skin tingled while the hairs on her neck stood straight up. She always undergone these sensations whenever she snuck into the Erudite lands. She felt like she was a teenager again and she was attempting to sneak into a boy's home, in the middle of the night. 'Alright Nassy, all you have to do is just pretend that you belong here,' she reminded herself before leaving her vehicle.

The evening sky turned from a bright lavender to a dark shade of purple. The moon was now on full display and the stars sparkled in the sky. Being that it was nighttime and Erudites tend to be so 'by the book' when it came to being outside, there weren't many of them loitering in the apartment complex's courtyard. The ones that were outside were so focused on getting to their destination that they didn't even took note of the pregnant woman.

When Malachi opened his front door and saw his best friend standing in the doorway, he was pleasantly surprised. "Well-well-well, look at what the Dauntless smog has dropped off on my doorstep!" he chirped before wrapping his arms around her expanded waist. He hugged in silence for a moment. "Judging by your stiffness, I am going to assume that this is one of those type of visits, where we're going to need some time and plenty of junk food."

"What kind of visit are you referring to?" she inquired into his shoulder.

"The one in which you will tell me more stuff about this bambino's pappy," Malachi answered.

"You're correct… Kind of."

Malachi allowed his best friend to enter his apartment. Once she was in his domain, he proceeded to dote on her like he was the father of her child. He treated her like a man supposed to treat his mate, when she was expecting. His sweet behavior did not go unnoticed by her. As she lounged across his comfortable sofa, she viewed him from across the living room, in his kitchenette. He was in the process of making her a vanilla ice cream milkshake, a craving that she confessed to him. During this process of observation, she imagined Eric in Malachi's place. Before her mind could fully conjure up the image, her facial features immediately frowned up with disbelief. The notion of Eric doing something as nice and selfless as taking care of his mate, seemed so far-fetched to her.

"A penny for your beautiful thoughts."

This kind and warm statement pulled her back into reality. Her eyes zeroed in on the offered milkshake glass that was in front of her face. Thought of a happy, singing and dancing Eric in a kitchen disappeared from her head and it was replaced with the delicious looking drink that was in front of her. Her mouth began to salivate as she took in the frosted glass, the bulbous amount of whipped cream that was floating on top and the bright red maraschino cherry that capped it off. Her hands reached for the glass. Her eyes darted to Malachi's face. "Thank you."

Malachi smiled. "It's no problem, honey." He walked over to the other side of the sofa and sat down. "Okay, so…" Silently, his hands asked for her feet. She complied with his request by placing her bare feet in his lap. "…what did that jackass-of a-brother of yours did tonight?" he questioned as his fingers massaged the tender flesh on her left foot.

She took a gulp of the sweet, creamy drink before answering him. "He told me that my son needs a father. It wasn't the message behind his words that bothered me. It—

"Was the context of his message that bothered you," he said, filling in her statement. Malachi sighed. "Well, you know Dante, _finesse_ has never been one of his strong suits. I'm still amazed that he managed to find a life partner… _aaaannnnnddddd_ it is a woman from Amity, on top of that!"

Nasira grinned. She gave a drink a long lingering stare before she dissolved into confessing. "I saw _the Big Kahuna_ today."

Malachi's eyes widened in surprise at the news. Then a broad smile covered his lips.

"His tablet was broken and it needed repairs. _Fucking Rafe_ decided to send me up to the leadership wings to get it."

"So, what did he say to you?" he asked in a hushed tone.

"He danced around the issue at first before he asked point-blank if he was Lucien's father. I told him that he wasn't the only bull on the farm… Or some shit like that," she confessed.

Malachi chuckled. "And what did he say after that?"

"He was confused by the metaphor, but I didn't bother to explain myself after that. I asked him if he needed any other equipment to be checked and I left afterwards."

"Good," he hummed. He resumed with the act of massaging her feet. "He needs to be kept in the dark about that baby. Eric…" He paused to cluck his teeth and to shake his head. "I don't trust his intentions when it comes to you and the kid…" He gave her face a glance. "…And I don't trust that sociopathic, manipulative meat-trap with the magic punanni either."

An unladylike guffaw busted from Nasira's mouth as well as a jolt from her body. Her cackling laughter bounced off of the white walls that made up his living room. "Magic… Magic punanni?!" she wheezed before falling back into a fit of laughter. "Who has the magic punanni?"

If Malachi's scarred face possessed eyebrows, she was sure that one of them would've characteristically lifted as he slyly glimpsed at her. "You know who: the chickadee that your crush is dating and your son's father is secretly banging out," he explained. His thumb made an appreciated deep prodding into the arch of her right foot. "I've managed to learn some things about those two. Some of it was gossip while other stuff I've managed to learn by pulling official records."

Her mood lifted even higher when she realized that Malachi was holding onto some Erudite juicy gossip. "So, what did you hear? What did you learn about them?"

"Well, let's start with ' _the Big Kahuna'_ , as you like to call him. With him, I didn't hear much gossip about him. Most of the info that I have about him, I had to dig from the Bureau of Records—

" _The Bureau of Records?!_ Malachi, you didn't have to go through all of that much trouble for me," she declared.

"Honey, yes, I did. I wanted to make sure that you weren't dealing with a certified psycho. So, I checked out his records, any and every thing that I could find about him: his birth records, his school records and his… psych records."

'He has a psychological profile?' her brain whispered.

"Let's start with his birth records. His full name is Eric L. Coulter. He is twenty-six years old. He will be twenty-seven on November 12th. On his birth certificate, it listed his mother as being Deborah Coulter. Under the slot where his father's name was supposed to be listed, it is blank. Now, this is where I have a bit of gossip about him. From a very reliable source, I learned that Eric's father is a man that has a very prominent position, here in Erudite—

"Lysander Mott?" she said softly.

Malachi held a look of perplex. "What?! No!" He shook his head. "His dad is a big-wig, _but not that big of a deal_. Why did you think of Lysander Mott?" he chuckled.

Nasira sniggered. She shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. It just popped up in my head. I guess it had something to do with the fact that I met him in Dauntless, last year." She subtly shook her head. "So, do you know about his dad?"

"His dad is Ike Kincaid," he confessed.

A mask of confusion covered her face. "Who's Ike Kincaid?"

Malachi gave her a look of disbelief. "Honey… _You don't know who Ike Kincaid is_?"

Her eyes narrowed. "No. I don't know who he is. So, tell me, you egg-head."

"Such a Dauntless," he muttered under his breath. He was rewarded with a smack to the back of his scarred, bald head. He broke out in a fit of laughter. "Okay-okay-okay, I'll tell you. Ike Kincaid is the man responsible for discovering the U-284 vaccine that every newborn baby takes to boost up their immune systems. So yeah, he is a pretty big deal."

"Are you guys sure that he is Eric's father? What about Eric's mother?" she asked.

"Like I said before, it is totally gossip. Now in regards to his mother, Deborah Coulter is an Erudite, born and raised. She is currently working in the faction's maintenance department, where she works in clerical. He has an older brother named Frank. He is still in Erudite. He works as a janitor. I also checked Eric's education records as well. Despite being cold and collected like you claimed him to be, he wasn't sooooo… Intelligent."

She tilted her head. "How?"

"His grades were 'minimum' at best. You remember when a sixty-five was a passing grade, when we were in school? Well, Eric was making those type of grades. Around the time of his defection to Dauntless, he was in the process of failing all of his classes. I've read his former teachers' notes as well. From what I've read, they all wanted to test him to make sure that he had dyslexia and Attention Deficient Disorder. It would explain why he was failing. But his mother never provided consent. Speaking of his mother…" Malachi blew a gust of air. "…she is a piece of work. She was investigated for abuse once…"

Nasira's eyebrows rose while her mouth dropped open.

"…Eric and his brother were found wandering through the streets one night in Candor, when they were kids. They were…" Malachi paused. He was trying to remember something. Once he remembered, he continued. "Eric was seven at the time while his brother was twelve. They were only in their underwear. Frank had a few bruises on him while Eric was frost-bitten. Lucky for them, that was the extent of their injuries. According to several of their teachers, Miss Coulter was negligent, when it came to her child-rearing duties, as well as, was aggressive towards the teachers and staff. He skipped school a lot. He was caught by Dauntless patrolmen trespassing on their property, when he was a kid."

"You've mentioned that he had undergone a psych exam. What happened?" she asked him.

He massaged her calf muscle in her right leg. "When Eric was ten years old, he was taken to see a psychiatrist due to his aggressive and volatile behavior. The doctor who administered the test recommended that he would continue seeing a doctor, but once again…" He left the statement opened.

"His mom wouldn't allow it," she filled it in.

"Or she didn't even bother to take the initiative," he interjected.

Nasira sighed. Her heart provided a steady and dull pulse along with her heartbeats. Her eyes stung with unshed tears. 'No, don't you dare feel bad for that…jerk,' her brain warned her spirit. She took a strong pull off of her drink. "Tell me about Anissa Howard," she said afterwards while staring into the cup.

"Aaaahhh Anissa… Now this is where we will talk about some juicy stuff," her friend announced. "For her, I've heard more gossip for her than I've heard about Eric. Like your son's father, I've dug up her records in the Bureau of Records. She…" He shook his head. "…is a sociopath, if I had to diagnose her."

Fear filled her and it made her skin form bumps along the surface. She tried to swallow the huge lump that was buried in her throat. "Is that your final diagnosis, doctor?" she murmured while her fearful eyes stared at him.

"If I had to examine her, then yes that would be my diagnosis. She exhibited the outwardly signs of being sociopathic. I've managed to speak to some of her former classmates and I've read her teachers' notes. Then there's the other stuff…" He rested his right temple on his right hand, which was propped up on the back of the couch. "…Do you remember the situation that involved the kid who jumped off of a building, here in Erudite? It happened almost ten years ago. It was—

Nasira remembered. It wasn't hard to forget. She remembered hearing about it from older schoolmates, when she was a kid. It was considered to be a rare feat, over in Erudite. She also recalled hearing her parents discuss it in the privacy of their bedroom. They were worried because her older brothers Pollux and Atlas had recently transferred into Erudite and everyone assumed that the kid committed suicide due to overwhelming pressure.

"Yeah. I remember it. You think that she had something to do with it?" she asked as she stabbed the clouds of sugary foam with her drinking straw.

"Me, personally? Yeah, I do. But the Erudite officials believed that the boy committed suicide, so the case was closed."

"What makes you so sure?"

"She was dating that boy around the time that he died. According to his family and his friends, he didn't have any reason to commit suicide. He didn't exhibit any suicidal tendencies or poor mental-slash-behavioral health. When it came to him cutting it in Erudite during the initiation process, he was in the top spot. He was born and raised in Erudite. He was a brilliant young man, according to his teachers and trainers. So, the theory that he was feeling overwhelmed is utter bullshit. Then there's the shit that I dug up about her. In some of her old teachers' records, they mentioned that she orchestrated some fights between her male classmates. She refused to interact with other girls. Most of her juvenile bonds were formed with the male classmates. She once attacked her kindergarten teacher because the woman tried to force her to play with the other girls. That… odd behavior carried on with her, as she grew up. She rarely interacted with other women. She would instigate fights between boys, when she was in school. She loved the adoration of men. She even caused a teacher to be place on an 'administrative leave' after a particular nasty rumor was circulated about his unhealthy friendship with her…" Malachi rolled his shoulders thrice. "…A strange thing happened, as I was going through her records. I found out that she had a psych file. But, I couldn't get access to it. It was restricted," he told her.

"I thought all types of physicians and the head-shrinkers had access to the records," she pointed out.

"We do. Well, _we're supposed_ to have access to all of the records. But for some reason, I wasn't able to get access to her records."

"Well, that's creepy," she murmured.

"In my amateur opinion, I think Anissa loves to be in control over living things. I think she prefers to have control over men, which is why she only interacts with them. I think she gets off on it. With her, she can easily use her physical looks as a tool for manipulation. Men are bigger and stronger. She gets off on controlling something that is bigger and powerful than her and then breaking it down. And what's more powerful than a faction leader?"

Nasira leaned against the back of the couch while her feet touched the floor. "She sounds like a nut to me."

"And your big and bad leader wants to be with her…" He shrugged his shoulders. "…and I say let them be together. Just don't be surprised, when she convinces a teenaged boy to kill his ass, twenty years from now!" he joked.

Her face crumpled. "That was harsh," she added. She placed the back of her head against the edge of the couch.

A wave of suitable silence washed over the living room. It was comforting, too comforting. A warm energy flooded her body. Her limbs started to feel heavy as if they were being weighed down. A yawn bubbled up to the surface and she unleashed it. Her eyelids fluttered before slowly draping over her eyes.

"I seriously worry about you."

She opened her eyes and stared at the white crown molding that decorated the wall that was across from her. "What?" she murmured sleepily.

"I said, that I worry about you," he chuckled.

"Why?"

"Because I can. Because you're my friend. Because you're my family. Because you've been impregnated by the human personification of a social-climbing, Boogey Man. Take your pick," he informed her.

She giggled, "I'll take the last one".

Malachi sighed. "It is for the best that Eric does not know about the baby, honey. He seems like the type to believe that… Lucien is a _cursed object_ , a burden for him… Rather than a blessing. He'll more likely throw you in the Chasm like he did that boy."

Her head slowly lolled to the left. "Now that was a rumor," she corrected him. She stitched a giggle to her statement, even though her heart was pounding from the fear.

"Just pray that Lucien comes out looking like you instead of him," he reasoned. "I wish that you were in Erudite, babe. I could protect you, if you were living in here."

"If I had the choice, I would've been in Amity, babe" she confessed.

"Amity?!" he scoffed. "You would've wasted away in Amity."

She snorted. "How do you know that?" She started to feel her feet tighten up, a sign that they were going to swell up. She flexed her feet. "I could've been somebody in Amity. I could've been a business owner."

Malachi cackled. "Doing what?"

Nasira shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. I could've opened up the best damn marijuana dispensary-slash-sock store in Amity."

Her best friend's laughter bounced off of the walls.

*~oMLo~*

It was close to ten o'clock in the evening, when she returned to Dauntless. She was wide awake and alert now. It had to be the nap that she had on Malachi's couch. He allowed her to sleep for an hour before he woke her up. He reminded her that she needed to drive home. She managed to make it home safely and without any aggravation. Before she left her car, she changed out of her teal colored dress and tossed her black clothes back on. Once she entered her building's lobby, she remembered the out-of-service elevator. She reluctantly took the stairs to the fourth floor. By the time she reached the door that led to the corridor, she felt as if she just finished running in a marathon. Her face, shoulders, armpits and her arms were glowing with perspiration. The muscles in her legs were taut and sore.

'Oh God, I can't wait to get rid of this weight,' she silently said to herself as she panted. 'I am sweating like a pig!'

She exited the stairwell and made a sharp left turn into the corridor. She made it a few feet, when she saw a familiar sight at the other end of the hallway. He sat on the wooden bench that was propped against the wall. His upper body was hunched over with his elbows resting on top of his kneecaps. His head was bowed. Besides both of his feet and on the floor, were plastic shopping bags. She knew that they were leftovers from tonight's dinner.

"Dante?"

He lifted his head up and stared at her. A look of relief crossed his face. "Nassy," he breathed. He stood up. Then he picked up the two bags. "Ma—

"Leftovers?" she said to him. Her brother nodded his head. Nasira walked to the last door on the right side of the hallway. She keyed in a sequence of numbers into the keypad that was on the door's handle. She glanced at the hulk of a man, who was now standing next to her. "How long have you been waiting out there?" she asked as she passed through the threshold.

"Mmm, since an hour after you left Mom's house."

'That's… One… two…three—

"You've been sitting here for four hours?" she questioned. She flicked on a switch that was next to her front door. The pair of free-standing lamps powered on as a result. She walked further into the room. She heard the door click shut.

"Whoa!" she heard her brother sigh in awe. The comment made her smile. She heard his footfalls against the hardwood floorboards. "Did you do all of this?" he asked.

Nasira was a spectator to her brother's surveillance of her living room. In her spare time, she drew and built abstract pieces. He walked along each of the white-painted walls and he gazed at each of the framed art that was mounted. He walked past her ceiling-to-floor windows and walked over to the other side of the room. He came to a halt and then stared up at the giant light structure that hung from the ceiling.

"Did you do this as well?" he asked as he stared at the white light structure.

"Yeah, I did. I used paper," she told him.

"Paper? No shit?" he asked in awe.

"Yup, one day I was bored and I had stacks of paper and a glue stick, so…" Her voice trailed off. She shrugged her shoulders.

He walked over to the series of windows that were on facing the black, leather sectional couch. He stood in front of the center window and he stared out. "You have a great view of the pier!" he declared. He glanced at her over his left shoulder. He gave a comforting smile. He glanced back at the fantastic view. "But your view doesn't beat my view at home though…" He placed the bags on the floor. "…Our house rests on this hill, right. The windows in my bedroom are positioned just right, so that every morning we able to see the sun rises. Every time I see it…" He paused. His teeth clucked. "It's Heaven on Earth. On the mornings when I am taking care of Nova, I always take her to those windows and I show her the sun. She even says 'sun' and points to it." He laughed.

As her brother talked, she walked across the living room to join her brother. He continued to speak about his version of Heaven. She approached him and placed her head on his right bicep and she held onto his hand.

"…she giggles and—

He paused. There was silence. She felt his eyes stare down at her. But soon she felt his arm wrapped around her shoulders. He pulled her close to his body. His gentle action reminded her of her late father's 'hard-gentle' demeanor. His physique also reminded her of her father as well. It caused her to break down that wall, she managed to build up.

"I'm sorry," she said softly before dissolving into tears.

"Tsk," his teeth clucked. "Awww Nassy," he groaned softly before grasping her into his embrace. "I should be apologizing to you. I was a self-righteous asshole towards you."

Nasira unleashed a few sobs before mumbling a "Yeah". Then she felt his body tremble as he laughed.

*~oMLo~*

It was close to one o' clock in the morning, when she prepared for bed. After she made up with her oldest brother, they spent the following few hours chatting and eating the leftovers that her mother gave her. After he left her home, she stripped out of her Dauntless black clothes and took her long-awaited shower. Once she slathered her skin with moisturizer, she stood in front of her free-standing mirror. 'Ugh!' she silently groaned in disgust. "I'm…" She turned to her side profile and stared at her reflection. Her hands rubbed at her bulging stomach and then her oil-slicked thick left thigh. "…fat," she grunted. "And I'm going to get fatter." She walked away from the mirror and walked over to the light switch that was on the wall, next to the bedroom door. She flicked the plastic switch to power down the ceiling light. A blanket of darkness was thrown over the bedroom.

She made her way over to the foot of her canopy bed. Her fingers grasped the marble and wood footboard and she held onto whatever surface, as she walked to the side of the bed. Her fingertips snatched up the thick comforter and buttery-soft bed sheets. She drew the linen back and slid into her bed. A shudder and a deep sigh fell from her lips after she laid down. She rolled onto her left side and she rubbed at her protruding belly. Her unborn son made his presence known by poking at her hand.

"Hello, Lucien," she greeted. She deeply sighed. "Mama is going to bed now, so you might as well cut it out." There were a few more kicks and flutters. "You're going to be stubborn just like your daddy, huh?" A flash of memory filled her mind. "Let's just hope that you're totally not like him."

*~oMLo~*

Nine Months and Three Weeks Ago

For the twelfth time, Nasira's fingers touched at the soft material that formed the dress' deep cowl neck.

"Nasira!" Her mother's harsh whisper caused her to drop her hand away from the shimmering, red fabric. She peeped at her mother, who sat in the front passenger seat of her brother's vehicle. The scowl was gone from the older woman's face and was replaced with an expression of content. "That's better. You need to stop playing with your dress. You look very pretty," her mother commented.

"Yeah… Despite having your boobies practically spilling out of your dress," quipped Rogue.

"Rogue!" her mother shrieked. Then her brother received a slap on the back of his head for his trouble.

Mrs. Grant looked in the backseat at her daughter. "You do look beautiful, baby" she confirmed.

Nasira smiled. "Thank you, Mom…" She peered down at the dress. "…Even though I still don't believe you when you said that you bought this dress in Amity."

" _I did_ buy it in Amity!" her mom claimed with exuberance. "Your Aunt Patty knows the woman who designed the dress!"

"Who in Amity will buy this outfit? This doesn't scream 'hoe-down, barn festival,shindig' to me."

"The boutique doesn't cater to only Amity members…as you now know," her mother explained. She returned to her original position in the front passenger seat.

Silence filled the cabin of the SUV. Each passenger was in their own little world. Nasira stared out of the window and at the passing scenery. Her subconscious was really at the forefront in her mind. She pondered about her impending night. Will this be the night, in which she and Eric will make the first crack in the pristine veneer that was Patrick's and Anissa's relationship? She was aware that the couple will be at the banquet dinner. She also knew that Eric would grace the Erudite hall with his presence as well. A neglected feeling of curiosity tickled at her consciousness. The thought of the Dauntless leader's possible choice in apparel entered her mind. A part of her believed that he would show up in his usual garb: the combination of a black vest, a black short-sleeved shirt, a pair of black jeans and a pair of leather boots. But another part of her awareness recognized the fact that he came from the Erudite faction. She was aware that every man in that faction wore business attire.

'Wait—What? Why am I thinking about Eric of all people?!' her conscience questioned.

Nasira couldn't even answer that question. She couldn't say that it was of a recent blossomed friendship between Eric and her. In the past five months, they were hardly in each other's presence for longer than thirty minutes. To find out about her level of progression, they would meet in secluded nooks of the dark compound. Then the usual song and dance would occur: he would ask for a report, she would tell him and then he would state his unsatisfactory with her tactics in the form of insults. She would become defensive and explain her intentions behind those actions.

She didn't think that her seductive talents were terrible. She was using her logic. She knew that she couldn't turn from being "Meek the Mouse" to a sex-fueled vixen in the matter of days. She couldn't do this with Patrick, who was a man that clearly wasn't as open and free. She knew that she needed to start off slow and non-aggressive. She needed to delve into a friendship with him first. So, she began to act like a friend towards him. When they were at work, she would initiate conversations with him, whether if it was in the canteen before their shifts or during their fifteen-minute breaks. Whenever she was invited to join a small group of colleagues for an after-work activity, she would invite Patrick. There were occasions where he accepted her invitation and there were times when he would politely decline.

Within the matter of two months, Patrick treated her like she was a friend. It was also within those two months, her attraction for him waned. His presence no longer caused her tummy to flutter and her pulse to race. Her flesh did not become hot to the point where she wanted to bathe in cold water. Her thighs didn't tightened around her jewel any longer, in desire, when she saw him.

It was at this point when she knew that she was in a quandary. Her attraction for Patrick disappeared, which meant her original incentive to break up his relationship was gone. However she couldn't back out of this plan, due to the other two people involved. She knew that Eric wouldn't allow her to back out due to her moral stance. Plus he gave off the vibe that he would become vengeful and vindictive towards her, legacy be damned. Then there was Anissa. Over the past five months, Nasira came to the conclusion that she did not like this woman at all. At first her level of dislike for the woman was based on unfounded claims and a side-effect from her jealousy. Now, it was legit. After observing the young doctor's actions from the brief interactions that she had with her, her feelings were legit. Patrick's girlfriend was as kind as an ornery asp. She was cunning and manipulative, especially towards men. She came to that conclusion after she witnessed how the woman would behave around Patrick. For the fellow technician, she was this confident woman that was kind and thoughtful. When, on those rare occasions of which Nasira would come across Anissa with Eric, the Dauntless-transfer was a different woman. When she was around Eric, she put up this "slightly emotionally-cold, pampered princess and hard-to-get" façade.

This year's banquet was being held in Erudite, in their highly-esteemed "Anthropology Museum", in their ballroom. When the Grants arrived, they weren't the only ones. Several families were amongst them. Her mother knew several of those people. She immediately fell into the role of ambassador and mingled. Like a proud mom, she introduced Rogue and Nasira to them. With a forced smile on her face, she stood on her mother's left side and pretended to be engage in their conversations. On multiple occasions, the smile kept her from showing her true expression. She was offended at how some of the male guests would openly ogle at her mother and at her.

For tonight's festivities, her mother chose to wear a long-sleeved, floor-length gown that was black with thin, gold metallic threading in the fabric. The sleeves were made with transparent material and the dress held a flesh-colored lining underneath the outer transparent layer. The front of the collar held a deep V-neckline and the waist was gathered with a thin gold belt. Her mother's hairless head was covered by an elaborate, black head wrapping. Her graceful neck was adorned with a heavy gold necklace that held a chunky, bejeweled pendant. Her mother looked beautiful. And the older woman knew it. The woman preened like a peacock.

Even though the museum was opened to all of the factions besides Erudite, she never patron the facility. As she stared at the interior in awe, she wished that she did make at least one visit.

"Nasira?"

She looked away from the encased moth exhibit and she turned in the direction of the voice. "Yes?" Her eyes widened slightly and a smile grew, when she saw a familiar person. "Wwwwow… Patrick!" she gasped as she looked at him. "You look dapper tonight!"

Patrick like always looked polished and handsome. When he was home in Dauntless, he was the only Dauntless member that did not wear jeans or cargo pants all of the time. He would always show up to his shift in all-black, business attire. Tonight was no exception. The tall gentleman donned a black suit that was tailored to his frame. Underneath his black blazer, he wore a black shirt and a black vest. His neck tie and pocket square were the same oxen-blood color. His slacks held a subtle looseness and a flare.

At the moment he also wore a handsome smile that displayed his dimples. His dark brown eyes did their own perusal. It did not go unnoticed by Nasira. "I'm not the only one that looks extraordinary tonight!" he claimed. "You look beautiful, Nasira…"

Her cheeks blushed. Her doe-shaped eyes panned down at her outfit. She glanced at blood red-colored, silk floor-length dress. She stuck out her right foot from underneath the dress. Her ornate, golden high heeled shoe took a peek at her.

"…Not that you're ugly or anything. I just—

She giggled. "I know what you mean. And, thank you by the way."

"You're welcome."

She drew closer to him. "So you've made it! Did you come with your girlfriend?" she asked.

"Yeah, I did. She's…" Patrick turned his attention away from her. He stared off into the crowd. When he spotted his object of desire, he pointed. "…There! She's over by the bar. She's talking to her friends."

Her eyes scanned the room for the bar. Once she found the bar, she found Anissa. Her mouth frowned up. 'Hmmm, it figures.'

Anissa was in the company of four men and she was the only woman amongst them. Nasira saw the flute of champagne in her right hand and one of the men's lapel in the other. She assumed that Patrick's girlfriend must've been engaged in an entertaining conversation because she was smiling wide and laughing.

"She looks…nice," she said forcefully.

In her true opinion, she believed that his girlfriend was dressed like the typical Dauntless meat-traps. She wore a black dress that ended mid-thigh and was tight. Her wavy, chestnut colored hair was styled in a Dutch braid with a pompadour on the crown of her head. Even from several yards away, she saw the dark eye makeup.

'She is such a meat-trap,' she concluded. 'Just because she is a doctor, it doesn't make her an exception.'

"She's the love of my life," he declared.

She glanced at Patrick. "So you love her like that, huh?" His response was a head nod. "She's a lucky girl."

"Thank you."

"So— Aahh!"

Her sight was taken away from her. A black void was presented to her. The abundant sound of music seemed to flood her ears. Then she was subjected to the sensation of lips brushing up against her right ear.

"Guess who it is."

'Malachi,' her brain immediately answered.

"Malachi, if you don't get your hand from off of my—

She elbowed him in his stomach. His hand lifted off and she was rewarded with her sight again. She turned to her friend and peppered his arms with her fists. Malachi laughed and deflected her strikes. Once he had enough, he forced her into a restrictive hold.

"You're an asshole!" she screamed over the music.

"You love me!" teased a laughing Malachi.

"You're insufferable asshole!"

"You love me, Nassy!" he repeated. He pressed his lips against her ear. "So, is this _the one_ that you're crushing on?"

"I _was_ crushing on him," she pointed out.

"Oh-kay! You _were!_ Now where is his girlfriend?"

"By the bar. You can't miss her," she answered.

Malachi's head pulled away. A second later, he laughed in her ear. "She's interesting."

"What?"

"She looks like any ol' meat-trap but she has your fearless leader by the balls and this fool ready to lay his life down for her. Her mind games must be on par," Malachi explained. "I wonder what it is her motive."

"Why don't you ask her? Better yet, lemme go and you can go and analyze her," she told him.

" _Nnnnooooo_ , you're mine!" he whined like a child.

"In case you forgot, I was talking to someone when you interrupted me."

"So what. Let him wait," he told her.

"What about—

" _Eric!?"_ He snorted. "I don't care! Let him see us and think what he wants to think! Tonight, you're off of his clock. You are going to have fun. This is the only time that I can have fun with you without hearing the ' _Faction before blood' bullshit_. So you, ma'am, say goodbye to Mister Boring Long Legs over there and then come with me," he instructed.

Nasira chuckled as they parted ways. She turned towards Patrick. She smiled sheepishly. "That…" She pointed over her left shoulder. "…is my friend Malachi. As you can see, he's a bit of a clown."

Patrick smiled and chuckled. "He's just happy to see you. Go ahead. I'll see you later!"

"Promise me that you will dance with me," she said to him.

"I will, but I can't guarantee that I will be good!" he remarked.

"I don't care!" she shouted at him as she walked backwards towards Malachi. She turned away and ran up to her friend, who grabbed her hand. The two friends proceeded to make use of their time.

After having a brief reunion with her family, Malachi fetched drinks. First, they downed an appetizer which were glasses of champagne. It was followed by two shots of tequila. Before the first hour since her arrival was over, she was swimming through a nice buzz. The two friends found empty spots at their assigned table and animatedly talked. Dinner was eventually served, which she was grateful for because her buzz was starting to creep into the 'intoxication' territory, due to the meager rations of digested food in her stomach. Before the hired servers could take away guests' plates, Nasira and Malachi were on the dancefloor. Both dance partners tossed a self-imposed bubble around them during this time. Malachi took the lead and she followed, whether if they were performing a simple two-step to a ballad that was played by the band or if it was dancing to a bachata tune. They were unaware that their great time was being admired and viewed by other guests.

Occasionally, they would take a break from dancing, so Nasira could rest, in particular her left foot could rest. It was recently finished healing from a laceration that was infected, but the area still felt tender. It was during these breaks, when they would go back to their first mutual activity, which was drinking.

It was during a festive, up-tempo song, when she felt a tap on her right shoulder. Both friends came to a stop and came to see that it was Rogue who approached them. "Mom and Aunt Patty wants us to take a picture," her brother told her in a glumly state. He even added an eye roll. Nasira took in her brother's disheveled state: the messed up collar, the unfinished tie, the smears of red lipstick that decorated his toffee-colored skin and the fragrance of flowers that clung to his clothes. "She wants you to clean yourself up!" he shouted over the loud music. "She said that she don't want you to take the photo looking like you've just finished having a romp in a broom closet!"

Malachi snickered in her ear while Nasira outright cackled. The two friends pressed their sweat-covered foreheads together and they stared at each other. Matching Cheshire smiles marred their faces. They bodies did a clumsy swaying motion to the music.

"Are you two drunk?!" questioned Rogue as he continued to stand next to them.

Malachi looked at the younger man, who he considered to be a brother, and in a dead-panned voice, announced "Yes. We're drunk. We're drunk off of our love for each other and—

" _LLLLLLLLOOOOOOOOOOVVVVVVVEEEEEEEE_ E…" Nasira proceeded to wail, loudly.

Rogue rolled his eyes and shook his head.

She broke out in a stream of giggles and then collapsed her head on Malachi's left shoulder.

"Oh God," her brother groaned. Then he grabbed his sister's right arm and gave her a firm yank. She didn't put up any resistance and her slightly shorter frame tottered over to him. She did a clumsy bump against his torso and she giggled. "Come on, you derelict," he commanded. He led the way and she followed, giggling all of the way.

In the corners of her eyes, she saw her brother lead her away from the dancefloor, but from the assigned table as well. He led her out of the banquet room, where the dinner was being held also. She was greeted with bright lights, a wave of air-conditioned air and a dull ringing in her ears. After being led through the foyer that was outside of the banquet room and through a short hallway, they reached their destination: a line of seven women that formed outside of a women's restroom entrance.

Rogue led her to the end of the line and then released his hold. "Can you make your way back from here?" he asked her.

She nodded her head and then sighed. "Yes, I am not _that drunk_ , Rogue!" Then her feet made a slight stumble after losing her balance a bit. She heard her brother scoff. "I'm…okay," she reported as she held her hands up. They pressed themselves against his dinner jacket-covered chest. "My brain just realized that I was wearing heels," she explained. She looked at her brother's disheveled state. "Dude, you need…" She sniggered. "…to clean yourself up…" She surveyed his neck. "Who's the unfortunate bird that did this to you?" She received a harsh pluck against her forehead, as a response. Her intoxication numbed the pain.

"She's from Dauntless and that's all I am telling you," he informed her.

"I hope Mommy didn't see you like this. You know that she will have a big ol' fit, if she does. Poor girl wouldn't stand a chance with the old woman. She won't even make it past y'all first date, much less get the…' _mommy tattoos'_."

Rogue gave her elbow a friendly nudge. He smirked. "She don't have to worry about that, anyhow. Speaking of ' _mommy tattoos'_ , Mama is too busy trying to get you to finally have a reason to get some."

Nasira sneered at her brother's laughing face. "First, I have to get a man that will stay around long enough and get married. Then I have to get pregnant first and have the damned kid."

"When it comes to finding a man, I wouldn't worry about that one. I think Mama is busy trying to find you one right now…"

'What?!' She gave her brother a thunderous look. "Expound, please," she said calmly.

Rogue chuckled. "While you and Malachi was dancing away like you were Fred and Ginger, our mother was pointing you out to several young gentlemen and was talking to them. What about? I don't know. She was probably telling them your measurements and your ovulation schedule," he joked.

Nasira rolled her eyes and grimaced. Her brother chuckled and then gave her right shoulder a parting pat. 'Ugh, Mommy!' she quietly grunted while she listened to her brother's parting footsteps.

When she finally entered the women's restroom, she did a quick surveillance. The bathroom was settled in a very wide space. Individual stalls aligned two walls of the restroom. In the center of the room, there was a long concession of vanity tables with floating mirrors. Each table held an elaborate sink. A trio of uniformed bathroom attendants and their booths lined up the wall that was closest to the entryway. Nasira did a quiet and quick body assessment and came to the conclusion that she didn't need to use a stall, despite drinking like a fish tonight. She approached an available vanity table. She greeted her reflection with a smile on her face. In her peripheral view, she caught a few patrons stare at her. She didn't know if those glances were based off of curiosity, marvel or contempt. She didn't care, an emotional feat that took decades for her to master.

'Rogue was right. I do look like I have a freshly fucked look about me,' she quietly assumed. Every bit of exposed skin was glowing with a thin layer of perspiration and a healthy red tint underneath the surface. Her once-coiffed hair of layered curls were mussed up and carrying more volume, thanks to the humidity that clung to the air. One of her curls now draped over her forehead and covered her left eye. Her base and foundation was still holding up despite the sweat clinging to her face. Her clear lip gloss was now gone and most likely littered on several eating and drinking utensils. 'I need my lip…' Then she realized that she didn't have her clutch purse with her. 'Eh, it doesn't…'

A blur of darkness managed to flash across her peripheral view. Her vision was drawn to the sight. Her eyes landed on her mirror and she stared at the reflection. In particular, the reflection of the woman that was standing next to her.

She resisted the urge to frown up her face and purse her lips from irritation at the sight of Anissa. 'Oh the Gods why have you forsaken me so by having this meat-trap stand next to me,' she silently groaned.

The usually short-statured woman stood several inches away from Nasira. She stood in front of her own vanity mirror and she was observing her reflection. Her stubby hands were making brief touches to her hair and her face. Her fingertips made sure that her makeup was still well-kempt.

A niggling thought entered Nasira's head. 'I wonder if ol' girl is here to act—

"How do you know my boyfriend?"

'Which one?' The left corner of Nasira's mouth turned up to form a smirk. She turned her attention to the actual person this time. She gave Anissa a slow, full-body scan. She did it to cause some sort of discomfort and insecurity in the smaller woman. "We work together. We've…" She pointed to Anissa and then to herself. "…met actually…" She turned away from her to fetch a few tissues from the box that was on the vanity countertop. "A few weeks ago, you came by the tech department…"

'Smelling like both Eric and sex, by the way.'

"…and you brought lunch for Patrick…" She patted the tissues against her sweaty skin. "…He introduced us." She glimpsed at the woman. "Don't you remember?"

'You probably don't have a clue.'

"No, I don't remember that! I think that I would remember _you_ ," she slightly groaned. She sneered.

Nasira recognized that look. She understood the hidden message behind it. She chortled low, under her breath. "Oh no-no-no-no, honey" she said with a smile. " _This_ …" She gestured to her outfit and hair. "…is not my usual get-up. A 'sex vixen', I am not. What you're seeing here are special effects and movie magic."

Anissa took a few steps forward, towards her. The taller woman could sense the smaller, older one's level of hostility. "I don't care what you look like! I want you to keep away from—Eric!"

Nasira's brow crumpled. 'Eric?! Sooo, you're admitting that shit to me?!' Then she noticed Anissa's eyes shift away from her to stare at a figure that was behind her. She felt energy caressing her back. She made a fast spin and ended up facing the one person that she least expected to be in the women's restroom. 'Eric?! What-the-hell is he doing in here?!'

Her wide dark amber eyes scanned the tall and broad, masculine figure that stood in front of the two women. She noticed that he indeed used his God-given logic, when it came to his choice in clothing. For Nasira, she believed that he didn't look like a typical Dauntless knuckle-head with the all-denim and black, Oxford boots. Tonight, he was dressed like a well-polished gentleman. He wore all-black suit, like every other Dauntless man that was a guest. A black jacket that appeared to be made from velvet, which was an expensive fabric that was hard to obtain in all five factions. In the left breast pocket, there was a pocket square which was meticulously folded. The pocket square matched the tie that he wore, black with small white polka-dots. A black dress shirt was underneath his jacket. His dress slacks were tailored and straight-leg. He wore polished, black shoes on his feet.

'Wow, he dress up tonight,' she said to herself. A small part of her expected for Eric to show up to this banquet wearing a sleeveless denim vest, a short-sleeved shirt, a pair of skinny jeans and his favorite black, combat boots. She was surprised when her vision ended up being caught in his. A corner of his mouth ended up turning up into a smirk.

"Eric, what are you doing in here?"

Nasira watched his eyes rolled over to stare at the woman that stood next to her. She eyed the woman. Anissa stood in her spot, fidgeting with her dress and her hair. She found her behavior to be odd. Just a few seconds ago, she was behaving like an aggressive woman with insecurities and now she was acting like a socially-awkward teenager girl. 'What game is she playing?'

"I came in here to fetch my date…" he informed her.

Confusion flooded Nasira's spirit.

"…Her family is waiting for her…"

Then the confusion disappeared and was replaced with enlightenment. Her manicured eyebrows lifted with surprise. 'Wait a damned minute!' Her dark brown orbs watched him as he eyed her. He extended his left hand towards her. 'Wait a damned minute!'

"…Nasira, your mom asked me to come and get you," he simply stated, as if they were on very familiar terms.

'What kind of game is he playing?' She glance at both faces of the secret lovers. 'Y'all freaks belong with each other!' She strutted past Eric and ignored his offered hand. She walked out of the bathroom. She didn't bother to check to see if he followed her.

She traveled back to the ballroom and proceeded to find her family. When she was a few feet away, she was greeted with a wonderful surprise. It was a surprise that was covered in Erudite blue. Her older brothers, Atlas and Pollux had joined their tables. She also detected the presence of her Aunt Eula and her husband Silas at the table as well. She suddenly felt like she was a child again. She lost her sense of manners and decorum. She ended her running across the hall and jumped into Atlas' awaiting arms. She hugged while laughing in his ears before she was passed off to Pollux, who held her against his six-foot-three inch frame like she was four year-old girl again. She hugged Atlas' fraternal twin brother as if she didn't want to let him go at all. Her brother Rogue hilariously had to peel her off, so they could all take pictures.

It was during the picture-taking process, when she realized why her mother always patron these annual dinners and would force the rest of the family to attend. When she was a child, she found them to be boring and long-winded. Now, as an adult she understood why these functions were so important. Ever since her father died, her mother's desire to be around her family had greatened. At the annual banquet, she was able to interact with her sons that left and her other relatives who lived in other factions.

These were the moments when the "Faction over blood bullshit" (as Malachi preferred to call it) didn't exist. Parents could reunite with sons and daughters. It was here, when grandparents from one faction could finally meet their grandchildren that were being raised in another.

After the family photos were taken, Nasira decided to rest temporarily. She found an unoccupied chair and took a seat. The arch in her left foot ached, so she removed her shoe to check out the tender spot. As her fingers massaged the sore flesh, she surveyed the table's other occupants. She made glances at her Aunt Patty and Aunt Gloria as they fawned over Trudy's and Dante's toddler. She watched her young cousins run around the table, chasing each other. She chuckled as blurs of Candor's black and white and Amity's gold and red whipped around the round table. She laughed at brothers Atlas and Pollux's talents of still being able to get under Rogue's skin, despite being "The Man" as he loved to call himself. Her brothers Trigger and Samson were trading car stories at the table. Then her eyes caught the visual of her mother's profile as she talked to…Eric.

' _Eric?!_ ' her brain shrieked while her eyes bulged. She dropped her bare foot to the floor. She continued to watch this spectacle. Her mother had her back faced to the table while the leader was standing in front of her. Her eyes even bulged wider when she noticed the genuine happiness that was etched on his face. His skin glowed, his eyes radiated and there was a toothy smile on his lips. 'Wait— What?!' She glanced at her mother who was chatting away and then she freaked her daughter out by placing a hand on his shoulder and squeezing. Her mother said a few words to him and it made the young leader blush. Nasira's jaw had gone slack. 'Did I fall into another universe?!'

Her Erudite trait was now activated and she wanted some answers. She slipped her shoe back on her foot and then made her way over to the Dauntless pair. As soon as she approached them, her mother wrapped an affectious arm around her shoulders and drew her close. She gave her mother a look of suspicion. "Alright woman, what are you up to?!" she announced over the loud music.

"What?! I am up to nothing!" her mother shouted, cheerfully. "I was just speaking with our leader, Eric!" she explained. She looked at the young man that was standing in front of them. "Eric, have you met my daughter Nasira?" Then she looked at her daughter. "Nassy, have you met—Of course, you know who he is! He was the one who looked after you guys, when you were an initiate!" She looked back at Eric and addressed him. "Eric, this is my daughter—

Eric nodded his head. "I know who she is, Mrs. Grant!" Then his eyes zeroed in on her and she couldn't help feel a cold chill against her skin. "I remember her from when she was an initiate!" he informed her mother, but kept his eyes on her.

Nasira detected the subtle jerky movement that his cerulean orbs made as it jumped from her eyes to parts of her that further down south. A wave of heat permeated from her collarbone and her breasts. An eyebrow raised and her head slightly tilted in confusion. 'Did he…? Did he ogled my tits?' Her cheeks and face filled up with warmth. Nervously, she eyed her mother. "So, you're not over here trying to negotiate my dowry right now?" she jested.

Her mother gave a firm squeeze. "No, of course not!" her mother said cheerily. "I have to discuss that with Eric right after he tells me how many cows he has first!"

Nasira scoffed as her mother laughed at her own joke. She rolled her eyes and did a glimpse at Eric. She noticed that he was staring at something that was behind her. Then abruptly his eyes landed on her.

"Dance with me," he blurted out.

'What?!' She blinked and then gazed dumbly at his face. "What—

"Oooh, that is a great idea, Eric!" her mother interjected. She released her hold on Nasira's shoulders and then gave her back gentle prodding towards the tall gentleman in black. "Go on Nassy! Go dance with the man!" her mother instructed.

Nasira wasn't ready for her mother's push, so she ended up colliding into Eric's broad torso. Her hands reached out in front of her to break the impact. Her hands ended up clasping a handful of soft velvet material. Embarrassment filled her. She glimpsed into Eric's intense gaze before she glanced at her mother, over her right shoulder. "Mom!" she shrieked.

Mrs. Grant waved her off. "Go on," she mouthed.

Her feet began to move before she could stare straight ahead. Eric held a firm grip on her wrists and gently pulled her away. With small, quick steps, she was led to the dance floor and to the center where they were surrounded by bodies of dancing forms. The band decided to use this period of time to play ballads, which she was thankful for. She didn't want to learn about Eric' dancing abilities during an upbeat tune. Both faction members slipped into their respective positions. His right arm wrapped across her lower back and his fingers molded to the curve of her right hip. Her right hand slipped into his left hand and held on. With eleven inches of space in between them, they proceeded to dance to the music. For Nasira, it was more like she swaying from side to side like two anxiety-riddled kids at a school dance.

"So, what brought this on, Eric?" she asked him, ten minutes later.

"She's watching."

Nasira did not need for him to tell her who was their admirer. She knew. Anissa. She figured that the temptress in black must've had them on her radar after they left the bathroom. "Where is she?" she asked him as she eyed his necktie's knot.

"By the bar—

Nasira snorted. "This doesn't surprise me," she mumbled. "Is she still looking over here?"

"Yes."

'Okay, so it's time to switch up the game here. Make her jealous. I can't keep using one tool and not the other ones that are in my toolbox.'

"Eric, look at me," she commanded.

"Why?"

"Just look at me and just stare at me. Just trust me on this," she told him. Soon, she felt blue-colored heat fan her face. He scanned her entire face before focusing on her eyes. "G-Good," she breathed. "J-Just keep it. It's a cheap and easy way to convey the act of intimacy." She internally cringed at the word-stumbling and the feeling that his gazing conjured up in her. She foolishly believed that she was used to each and every one of his heavy focuses. "Talk to me," she whispered. 'Menial conversation will keep the feeling away.'

"About what?" he said curtly.

"Anything," she squeaked. Her mouth did a subtle snarl, a sign in her disappointment for displaying her sense of nervousness to him. "Tell me…" Her eyes drifted off, as well as, her voice. She caught sight of her mother in the sidelines. An idea floated into her head. "Tell me about how you know my mother," she asked with a smile.

His eyes narrowed and his top lip committed a small snarl. "What do you mean by that?" His voice was filled with accusations of distrust.

"You know what I mean," she told him with a pucker of her lips. "You and my mother, just now… That wasn't the body language of two colleagues. It was the behavior of two friends, at minimum. At the maximum, it was the way two family members interact with each other. So, what's going on between you and my mother? How do you know her?" She noticed the expression of suspicion in his face deepened.

"She's our faction's Diplomat Allegiant—

"I know my mother's job title, Eric. Shit, I have gone on some trips with her when I was a kid. I know who she is. I am asking you want she is… to you," she asked.

"She helped me, when I was an initiate," he answered after of moment of not cooperating with her.

"She helped you, how?"

Eric unleashed a throaty groan. She knew that he didn't like to discuss this information. But she didn't care. She stared into his eyes and waited for his answer. When a wave of silence passed them, she squeezed his hand and dug her manicured nails into the skin. His eyes narrowed and a grunt fell from his mouth.

"I'm not dropping this conversation, so you might as well answer. Or, I can leave this dancefloor right now and talk to someone who has a better skill at conversing with people," she told him. She felt like she had just invoked the spirit of her mother, afterward that tongue lashing.

His jaw twitched just as his glowed with a malevolent energy. He turned his face briefly away and he looked off to the sidelines.

"Eric," she said in a firm voice. When he didn't respond, she unleashed his hand. She made a step backwards and was about to pull away, when she felt his arm tightened around her lower back. His left hand snatched up her right hand and held it captive. Her own anger rose. She glowered.

"When I dropped from that hole and into Dauntless, I was a small, skinny kid who looked as if I didn't have a chance at all. I wasn't like the other kids. Even the female initiates had more of a weight advantage than I ever did. It made me a target."

"Bullies?" she guessed.

"No, _everyone_ ," he informed her. "My fellow initiates. My trainers. Other Dauntless members. They wanted to break me. I had my belongings stolen from my bunk, so I didn't have any clothes except for the ones that were on my back. I was constantly picked for sparring sessions and all of my opponents were stronger and more proficient with their fighting. If I fell asleep, I was attacked by my classmates. I had no friends. I had no allies. I was even considered to be a pariah for the other weak initiates. This was when the old rules were still in effect, so our initiation lasted for eight months instead of the three-and-a half months that these piss-ants will have."

"I know," she pointed out. She was a part of the 'old school way of training', which was hell. Well, hell for the other initiates. Thanks to her injuries, she was kept out of the first two months of training and when she joined up, she was handled with kid gloves.

"By the end of the second week, I wanted to die. I was tired and starving…"

'And you were afraid, weren't you?' she secretly speculated.

"…One night, I was hiding in the compound. I was hiding from a group of kids, who wanted to beat the shit out of me. I ended up in a section of the faction that I didn't know. I fell asleep in a warm corner. I woke up to find your mom standing in front of me. She didn't say anything to me at first. She smiled at me. I thought she was going to make…" He paused and his eyes narrowed with contempt. A brusque exhale was forced at his nostrils. "I thought she was going to make fun of me and then go to my trainers to report me. Instead, she just told me to follow her. I did. She ended up taking me to her office-suite. She fed me with whatever food that she had in her fridge. Then she called your dad over to bring clothes for me."

"So, my mom helped you… _And my dad too_?" she questioned.

"Yes."

Her eyes lit up and her spirit smiled. It had been a very long time since she heard another Dauntless member, non-related, make a reference to her father. Like Erudite and Abnegation, the faction as a whole had a very emotionally unattached way of handling grief over the deceased. She knew that Erudite loved to hide behind education and logic, when it came to handling theirs. Abnegation would equate grieving to the act of being a selfish and then they would channel all of their emotions into charity work. She had seen Dauntless members just equate grieving to being a sign of weakness and then drink themselves into stupors. It was why her family kept their grieving processes within the family circle.

"So…what happened afterwards?" she asked, now interested in his account.

"They… Helped me." His tone held a sense of finality.

She knew that he didn't trust her with any more information.

"Eric," she said before pursing her lips. "Who am I going to tell this info to…and what do you think will happen to you, if I told someone? They cannot take your title away from you, especially after you _earned it_ …" She gave him an all-knowing smile. "…right?" She licked her bottom lip. She detected his deep observation as she done so. A blush developed in her deep, coffee-colored skin tone. "So…what happened after that night?"

"Your mother…" He sighed. "She gave me the key-code to her office's door. She told me that she will leave food in the fridge every night and all I had to do was heat it up in the lounge room. She…told me where I could find blankets and a pillow. She let me…" He sighed again as his eyes scanned the ballroom. "…She allowed me to stay in her office at night during my initiation trial. She taught me about the other factions' politics. She told me about which person to trust, in which faction and which member to keep at an arm's length. She…" There was another brusque breath from him. "There were other things that she had given me. But I will _not go there with the likes of you,"_ he groaned. "…Now in regards to your father, he was the one who taught me how to defend myself and become an official Dauntless warrior. He taught me how to use my natural instincts and my five senses to my benefit. He taught how to develop my strength and my body. He had taken me out to the Amity woods and taught me how to hunt. How to survive in those woods, in case I needed to learn. No one else. Not even my so-called trainers."

There was a short reflection about her father's training methods. She smiled while feeling warm and giddy from those memories. "I believe that you were lucky in that regard, because you learned from the best," she informed. 'Did you just give him a compliment?' her conscious teased. 'But, it's true. My father was the best.' She truly believed it. Her father had the natural talent of teaching men, women and children how to physically defend themselves. He knew how to instill more confidence in people while he taught them. He taught people based off of their emotional and mental capabilities. Plus, he taught women with care. She didn't understand how no one could see his divergence. "My father was a brilliant man, when it came to teaching people."

"Yes, he was brilliant when it came to that," Eric agreed.

She noticed his eyes look past her once more. 'He's looking at Anissa again.' She looked to her right. "Is she still looking over here?" she asked.

"Yes, she's watching."

'Okay, time to get closer.' She looked at her hand. "Let go of my hand. I want to come closer to you," she informed him.

He glanced down at her with a mask of confusion on his face. "What?"

"You want her to believe that I am your date, right? So let go of my hand, Hercules and allow me into your personal space. We have to let her believe that we're capable of fucking afterwards…" She watched his eyes widened. "…so allow me to get closer to your big, bulky ass." She freed her hand from out of his grip. In mid-step, Nasira drew closer to his large frame. Her silk-clad front pressed against the solid plank that was covered in velvet. Her hands reached around to his back where they held onto his shoulder blades. The underside of her chin rested on his right shoulder. She took note of the woodsy-spicy scent that was coming off of his clothes. "Now wrap your arms around my waist," she instructed after she took note of the lack of hold he had on her. "Now dance with me." Eric unleashed a groan in response, airing out his level of discomfort. She giggled into his neck. Her arms felt his body radiate tension. "Relax," she whispered, "jeez, you're tense…" She lifted her chin from off of his shoulder and she gazed into his eyes. "…You've never dance with a girl before?"

He didn't respond to her inquiry. He just frowned.

She smiled at him and then she returned to her resting place that made up his shoulder. She followed up with her own suggestion by relaxing against him. She felt the muscles in his arms released the tension that was stored in them. She powered down that part of her that was always thinking up the next step, the next part of the plan and she learned to appreciate the moment. She chose to listen to the slow, bluesy ballad that the band was performing. She chose to live in the rhythm of the music and the melody of the lyrics.

"… _Ruler of my heart. Father of my soul._

 _Oh, where can you be? I wait patiently._

 _My heart cries out. From Pain inside._

 _Oh, where can you be? I wait patiently…"_

Nasira recalled listening to this tune before, somewhere else. She quickly assumed that this had to be a song that her parents used to listen to, when they believed that the kids were asleep.

"… _When you alone, the going gets rough…_

 _Come back. Come back. Come back._

 _I had enough. Make me your queen…"_

Her lips parted and the words flew out of her mouth, aligning themselves to the melody of the music. She sung while her hands dance to the rhythm of the words against a land of velvet.

"… _Happy Day, Hear my Cry._

 _Please my king…"_

Her hands slipped from his back and slithered around to his front. They pressed themselves to the front of his lapels for a beat before traveling up to his shoulders. She removed her chin from off of the broad, dense muscle so her hands could wrap around the back of his neck. Her cold fingers made contact with his heated skin. She tilted her face towards the ceiling and her eyelids shut her off from the world. The world of intoxication had taken over again. Her face grew warm while her skin slightly buzzed and felt cozy. It felt good.

"… _When you're alone and the going gets rough…_

 _Come back. Come back. Come back…"_

Her plush and defined lips kept singing the lyrics to the song as their bodies swayed to the music. She tilted her head forward. Her fingernails lightly scratched at his skin in a teasing way. The grips in her hands loosened. Her fingers folded into themselves and her knuckles caressed his neck and scalp line. In the back of her mind, she acknowledged the way his hands tightened their grasps on her hips. Her feet made the initiative of closing the gap that was in between them. Her arms slid across his shoulders as she drew closer. Her face nuzzled the right hook that formed between his neck and shoulder. Her lips grazed his jawline as she numbly drew closer. The insides of her elbows wrapped around the back of his neck. Her lips moved and hummed the music's melody when there were no words left to sing. A sharp, feminine inhale fell from her lips, when she felt his fingernails scrape against the bare skin that covered the small of her back. She brought her lips to that sliver of skin that was in between his jawline and ear. They drew close. Her soft flesh grazed along the surface of his jawline as they closed in on his chin. Her lips and chin was fanned with humid air. The 'Cupid's Bow' from her top lip grazed warm, soft flesh.

Abruptly, a wave of coldness washed over her front and she felt her equilibrium being forced off-kilter. 'What?' her brain moaned, groggily. She looked around frantically. She recognized her surroundings. 'Ok, I'm in the ballroom, in Erudite. At… the… The museum…' She felt the room slowly spin like she was intoxicated. 'Wha…What just happened?!' She jogged through her memory. 'Dinner… Dancing… Dancing…Dancing with Eric… Dancing with— I was just dancing with him! Where did he go?! Why in the hell did he run off like that?!' She looked into the direction that she believed he departed into. 'What-the hell-just happened?!'

*~oMLo~*

Nasira stared at her cell phone's clock once again. It was close to midnight. She was ready to return to Dauntless, back to her apartment. Malachi already left. He decided to play the role of 'kind neighbor' by escorting an elderly, Erudite couple back home. Now with her buddy gone, she was bored. She looked at the table's occupants and announced, "Alright, who's ready to go home?" A few milliseconds later, she was greeted with a melody of negative affirmations.

"Nasira, we just got here!"

"Oh Nassy, sit down and wait a few minutes!"

"Nassy, just wait! Everybody is still having a good time!"

"Sit down and have a drink!"

She rolled her eyes and leaned further back into her chair. She planted an elbow on the table and her chin into the palm of her hand. With stinging and tired eyes, she observed her family members as they continued to celebrate. Then her eyes began to observe other party-goers.

"You look like you're ready to go."

Her eyes flickered their gaze at the figure in black, who stood next to her. It was the same figure that suddenly abandoned her on the dance floor, close to two hours ago. His fixed gaze was aimed at her while hers were focused on him. She saw his current state as being relaxed. The tie around his neck was loose and hung around his neck like a dead snake. The first four buttons of his shirt was unfastened, as well as, the buttons of his jacket. His hands were buried deep in his pockets. She believed that he gave off the appearance of being a friendly guy. But she knew better. He was far from being a friendly guy.

"Yes, I am…" She crossed her legs at the knee. "Are you willing to be a hero for the rest of the night by helping this damsel in distress?"

"You're far from a damsel…" He did a quick glimpse at the dance floor. "…Far from it." A smile appeared on his lips. "Do you need a ride home?"

"Are you willing to take me?" queried Nasira with a smile on his lips. She spotted the dark energy that swirled in his eyes. "I mean, if you don't have any plans of staying—

"I'm ready to go," he confirmed. He offered a hand to help her up.

She accepted the help and stood up. She gathered her gold clutch purse in her hand and then proceeded to say her farewells. The process took longer than she expected. Some relatives weren't allowing her to give them a quick farewell. Her brothers tried to subject her to their 'overprotective big brother' routines, once they realized that she was leaving without any of them. She disregarded the 'friendly advice' and told them to tell their mother that she left. Once she was able to depart from her family, she traveled across the ballroom and she met Eric at the entrance.

It had taken close to twenty minutes for both Dauntless members to arrive to a black, formidable vehicle that was parked in a residential neighborhood that was several blocks away from the venue. She considered his parking choice to be an odd one, especially since she knew there was valet for the dinner's guests. He unlocked the doors and deactivated the security system with a click of a button on a device that he held in his hand. She was mildly surprised with Eric's character, when he helped her enter the vehicle. But then the mild 'impressed' feeling disappeared, when she caught him ogling her breasts once more. She frowned, 'Well, there goes that decent human being thing.' He joined her in the vehicle, a minute later.

An half an hour into their traveling, she realized something. "Hey," she said softly as she stared out of the windshield. She glanced over at his profile. "I just realized that this is the longest we've been in the same room. Usually, we're in and out. It's—

"What did Anissa say to you, when you two were in the bathroom?" inquired Eric, cutting her statement off.

She sighed and settled deeper into the smooth, leather chair. "She wanted to know how I knew Patrick."

"What did you tell her?"

"I told her that we work together. Then I reminded her of the fact that we did meet once. She didn't believe me. Then she told me to stay away from him," she reported.

A whining growl escaped his mouth. She did a quick glimpse at him. She viewed the look of contempt in his face: his eyes narrowed, his jaw twitched and his nostrils flared.

"What?" she mumbled.

A rough exhaled shot from his nostrils. "Now she is going to stick to his ass like glue," he explicated.

"No she won't."

"Yes, she will."

"No, she won't."

"Yes—

"Eric, _trust me on this one, okay_?!" she forcefully groaned. She took a peep at him. "Don't be surprise when you see her at your doorstep tonight, after you drop me off. Or, knowing you, she'll be in your apartment in her most slut-tastic lingerie. And she is going to try to fuck you until the point that your balls will shrivel up and become atrophied."

Eric did a glance at her before turning his attention back to the road.

"What I ended up doing was make her feel distrustful of Patrick's actions. When she looked at me tonight, she didn't see me as _his friend_. She saw me as a chick who is trying to get with her boyfriend. She saw me as a threat. The next thing that is going to occur is she is going to ask Patrick who I am and what I mean to him. Now, she may or may not come off as a jealous psycho towards him, but she is going to ask him about me. I guarantee you that she will," she clarified to the leader. She smiled at him. "Sooo…yeah, I am on her 'Shit List' now… _and thanks to your antics_ , she is going to make sure that she ain't going to lose you too. She's going to make sure that her scent will be the only female scent on you."

"You make it sound like she is an animal," he groaned.

She snickered. " _We're all animals, honey_. The only difference between us and the other animals is the fact that the other ones don't go through all of the bullshit that we humans do to ourselves." She snickered again. She heard his voice as she laughed, but she didn't pick up his comment. "Would you care to repeat that?"

Eric gave her a short stare before uttering, "And you call yourself 'Meek the Mouse'."

Her nose snorted. She shook her head. "Nah. That wasn't a self-imposed title. Kids from my childhood gave me that nickname. It's really an insult, but I guess people didn't pick up on that one." She gave him a sideways glance just as her legs crossed over. "As you can see, I am not meek at all…" She stared out of the front passenger window, at the passing scenery. "Now, I can see why folks think that I am quiet as a mouse. But they confuse my silence with the act of shyness. I am introverted. If I am quiet, then that's _because I choose_ to be quiet. I know it seems… impossible for a Dauntless figure to be silent. Being quiet allows me to read people's body language. How many times have you seen a person, back in Dauntless, get their asses handed to them because of something that they've said or done, at the moment?" She glanced at the driver.

A knowing smile crossed his lips. "Plenty of times."

"Well, being quiet allows me the privilege of reading another person's body language. It allows me to see the tight…" She reached across the cabin of the truck and her fingertips grazed his jawline. "…ness of their jaws…" She watched Eric tilt his head to the side, to remove his jaw from her grasp. She giggled and withdrew her hand from out of his personal space. "The flaring of their nostrils when they're angry. The tightness in their shoulders and arms, as if they are about to jump out of their seats. I can feel their auras. I can read people. Not a lot of people in Dauntless can, though. They're too busy climbing buildings and getting random shit tattooed on their bodies."

The truck's cabin filled up with silence, but this time it was a comfortable sense of silence. It was the type of silence that she shared with either Malachi or her relatives.

"What's that?" she heard Eric announced, destroying their moment of silence.

"What's what?" she murmured as she eyed the world outside of the SUV.

A millisecond later, her breath was forced into her throat and was trapped there. Her left knee unleashed a ticklish ripple and her leg jolted. Her body did an involuntary flinch against the black leather chair. She followed her instinct, which was having her right leg cross over and cover her left kneecap. Heat, tougher skin that wasn't her own greeted the inside curve of her right thigh.

' **IT'S HIS HAND!** ' her brain screamed. ' **GET HIS HAND OFF OF YOU!** '

Her hands reached down and attempted to remove his hand from off of her knee. But he tightened his hold, which set off a reaction in her right thigh. Her leg squeezed on his hand. Her brain, still frazzled and not functioning completely, did not recognize her leg's actions as her own. So her hands continued to try to remove his offending hand.

"Calm yourself!" he grunted. "I am only looking at the scar on your knee! Now, can you release my hand from your… grip?! I can't continue to drive like this."

Her legs lessened their grip as did her hands. She viewed his hand slither away and go back to holding the steering wheel. As she straightened her dress, she said "The last time I've checked, you don't need your hands to see something, Eric!" She crossed her arms under her bosom and kissed her teeth. She had gone back to staring out of the window.

"So…You're not going to answer my question?" he queried after a bit of silence.

She glimpsed at him. "What was your question?"

"I asked you about the scar that is on your knee. How did you get it?"

Her eyes stared at the object of interest. Despite having no light in the car, she could see the thick keloid scar. She recalled the promise that one of the surgeons made to her, about the scar's impending appearance.

' _It won't be as wide, in diameter, as the size of your thumb and it won't be longer than your knee.'_

Her left set of fingers reached out for it. Her fingertips caressed the smooth textured surface. "I got it from the accident," she confessed. "My knee was torn up so bad that they needed to work on it while they worked on my head."

"You guys were found in an embankment, in Amity" mentioned Eric. "Why were you in that faction on that day?"

"He took me there, to show me around. While we were there we met up with my brother and with my mom's family."

"So you were visiting?"

"Yes, but we were also there because my father wanted to show me around. My parents knew that I was going to choose Amity, on Choosing Day, so he wanted to show me around."

A loud guffaw entered the close quarters. "Amity? Why did you want to go to Amity? Why not Erudite? Or even Candor? I can definitely see you in both of those factions. But definitely, not in Amity."

"If you haven't notice, Eric, I don't fit in with the Dauntless culture," she informed him.

The leader sniggered. "You don't fit in because _you chose not_ to fit in. During your initiate stage, you barely interacted with your peers unless _you had to_!" he pointed out. He threw her a quick glimpse. "When you didn't have to spar, throw a knife, shoot a gun at practice or participate in weight-lifting sessions, you would disappear in the compound until it was time for your bedtime. You would hide up in your mom's apartment or stay holed up in the database library."

Nasira stared at him with wide eyes. "How did you—

" _I know_?" He glanced at her. "Is that what you were going to ask me?" He returned his attention to the road. "I knew about your whereabouts because _I am your leader_ , and at the time, I was the one who looked over every initiate. I had to know every single thing about you initiates. Now answer this question: why Amity? You're intelligent enough, you could've gone to Erudite. You said that you like to read people, you would've had a great ol' time in Candor! But you wanted to go to Amity. Why?"

"Because… I belonged there. When I was a kid, my mom would send my brothers and me over to my aunt's house for a few weeks, when school was out. Whenever we would go, it felt like home to me. The people accepted me—

"It's probably because those hippies were high off of weed and that damn bread," he interjected.

She scowled at him. "Would you like for me to continue? Or would like to interrupt me some more?"

"I'm sorry," he said in a snarky tone. "Proceed."

"In regards to choosing another faction to go, I love to learn, but at my own pace, so Erudite was not the place for me. Besides, I don't want to live in a place, where folks are treating gossip like it's a narcotic. Can you imagine them with _actual drugs_? Candor _looks_ boring to me, so I can imagine just how fun that place can be. Abnegation? We are not even going to go there. So Amity it was…" She pursed her lips. "Until that damned deer ruined it all."

"A deer caused the accident?"

"Yup," she sighed. "My dad was driving, when a deer shot out from the side of the road and ran into the road. My dad avoided it, but he lost control of his truck. The truck first drove off of the road and down a steep hill. The front of the vehicle had struck a large boulder, which caused the truck to flip over the rock and land on steeper hill. My dad's truck did a few more flips as it traveled down the hill and eventually became stuck in an embankment, upside-down…"

"Shit," he hissed.

"…I was unconscious during those flips down the hill, but I did wake up afterwards. It was dark. I remember…Smelling water and blood and mildew. The seatbelt straps were digging into my skin. My leg was hurting so-fucking-much. My dad…" Her fingers lightly scratched at her neck. "…he was struggling to breathe. I couldn't see him. But I heard him. I remember the urge to go to sleep. I remember remembering a lesson that I learned about head injuries and concussions, about wanting to go to sleep, but not to fall asleep. So, I tried to stay awake. So, I listened to my dad. The gagging did stop… eventually. He was strangled by the straps from his seatbelt. His shoulder in his left arm was dislocated and his right arm was…practically non-existent at the time. It was why he wasn't able to save himself." She had fallen silent. Her fingertips still rubbed at the scarred flesh. "I'm surprised that I am not factionless, actually."

"Your mother wouldn't have allowed it," he pointed out. "Besides, you not being able to be present at your aptitude test and your Choosing Day is not your fault."

She sworn to herself that she heard a mild level of empathy in his voice. "Mmmm," she hummed. "I don't think my mom's clout could've protected me, if it did happen…" She peered over at his profile. "Faction over blood, remember?"

"Mmmm," he groaned. "We say it, but I believe that not many people really believe in it."

"If that was the case, then we wouldn't have fucking babies living on the streets, Eric," she pointed out as her fingers combed her thick locks away from her face.

" _If that was the case_ , then my ass would've been one of the factionless…." His eyes did a brief glimpse at her. "…I was so close to being cut from the initiation, when I was saved by your mom. If everybody believed in the 'faction before blood' creed, then your parents wouldn't have took me under their wings, Nasira. Also, you and your brothers wouldn't have been able to have those _lovely summer vacations in Amity_ , if your parents believed in the 'Faction before blood' creed."

She glanced at the faction leader. "So, you don't believe in it?" she asked him.

"Do you?"

"No, but I think you already know that," she answered.

"My answer is 'No'. But I didn't learn this until I was in Dauntless."

"Your parents weren't…"

He sighed. "No." There was more silence. "For your final score? You know that you could've received a higher one, if you applied yourself."

She shrugged her shoulders. "I am happy with my final score. I made it into Dauntless. I'm not living in the streets, in the Factionless territories. So, I'm happy." Her mother's advice from many years ago filled up her mind. _'Baby, listen to me: do not stand out during your initiation trials, okay? I haven't steered you wrong yet, have I? I want you to listen to your trainers, but just do enough to get you pass the cutting block. Okay? I know that you're hurting right now and you miss your dad. We all miss him, baby. I just need you to stay strong. And be smart, okay? No one is going to take you away from us.'_

Her eyes cut over to Eric. 'Apparently, I wasn't as discreet as I thought out to be.' Nasira did a sideways glance at the man. Her eyes took in the unorthodox hairstyle, the clean-shaven face and the high cheekbones.

"What?" He didn't bother to look at her.

A thought popped up in her head. "Have you ever thought about not dealing with Anissa anymore? You said that you've given her an ultimatum already and nothing change. Have you ever considered just… ending it?"

The mood darkened so abruptly that she physically felt it change. A strong chill clung to her skin while goose pimples dotted her.

"No," he snarled.

"No?"

"That's what I said: No," he groaned.

She wanted to ask him for his reasoning. She had a hunch, an assumption. Instead she asked another question. "Have you always liked her?"

"Yes." His answer was precise and short.

"Did you two know each other while you were in Erudite?"

"Yes." He rolled his shoulders thrice. "But Dauntless is our home now."

"Did y'all—

"Stop," he murmured.

She clamped her mouth shut. She turned her attention back to the windshield.

"All you need to know is that if things go according to our plans, you and that bumbling bore will be together soon," he pointed out.

'Ah-ha, if you only knew, Eric.'

*~oMLo~*

"If you see a mess, please excuse it," she warned him as she tapped in the sequence of numbers that unlocked her front door.

"I have to take a major piss. I don't have time to look around," Eric told her as he stood behind her, invading her personal space.

Once she heard the familiar 'beeping' noise, she opened the door and quickly trotted into the apartment. She moved out of the way and allowed the bulky man to enter her home. In long strides, he entered her living room and quickly scanned the room. Once he spotted the entrance to the hallway, which was on the other side of the spacious room, he walked in that direction.

"The bathroom is the first door on the right!" she shouted at his retreating, broad back.

"I know! They built all of these apartments the fucking same!" was his response as he entered the dark hallway. Once he found the lavatory, he entered and slammed the door shut. The sound echoed.

"Alright-y, then" she sang as she closed her front door.

Nasira had taken a few steps into her apartment before she came to a stop, so she could peel her shoes off. Her feet screamed out in appreciation. "Oooh finally!" she moaned while flexing her right foot. She dropped her shoes off next to her couch as she made her way over to the windows. Her curtains were still drawn, so she proceeded to close them.

" _Haunt me_

 _In my dreams_

 _If you please_

 _Your breath is with me now and always_

 _It's like a breeze…"_

The lyrics floated out of the woofers that were parts of her speakers and they clung onto the air. The fringe of recognition tickled at her mind, and soon, she was singing along with Sade. Her fingers clutched the thick and soft material of the curtains.

"… _So should you ever doubt me_

 _If it's help that you need_

 _Never dare to doubt me…"_

Her eyes stared out at the world that was presented on the other side of the windowpanes. She surveyed the pavement that was four stories below and the structures that surrounded the area. She spotted a few passersby as they walked by. Her lips continued to recite the song.

"… _Like an angel_

 _As quiet as your soul could be_

 _If you only knew_

 _You had a friend like me…"_

Her eyes looked away from the street and sidewalks to observe the building that was directly across the street from hers. It was another apartment building but only contained two floors. Most of the apartments' windows were displaying sheets of darkness. There were a few windows that displayed living rooms and their occupants.

"… _So should you ever doubt me_

 _If it's help that you need_

 _Never dare to doubt me…"_

She listened to the wailing saxophone as it carried the song out. Her eyes were focused on a couple as they sparred in their living room's floor, when she remembered that Eric was still using her bathroom. 'Oh shit! I totally forgotten about him!' She pulled away from her window and drew the black curtain across, closing off the outside world. She had taken a few steps backwards and then turned to face her living room. 'Let me go see—Oh shit!'

Nasira received a fright, when she turned around and discovered Eric in her living room. He was close to where she was standing. Very close. It was to the point where she could make out the detailed tattoos that decorated the skin on his forearms, which was another thing that she noticed about his close proximity.

'Ah…' She couldn't think of anything appropriate to say to him. She was still marveling at how quiet his footsteps were as he traveled from the bathroom to where she was standing. "Um… Eric?" she whimpered. She saw the energy in his eyes flicker. They had gone from being dimly-lit to full-on, ablazed. "I didn't hear you come in here," she said softly.

His current demeanor was throwing her off. He wasn't himself. Or perhaps, this was one side of the leader that she hasn't seen. Whatever the case was, she didn't want to deal with him when he was behaving this way. She didn't like the fact that she couldn't get a decent read off of his body language. Plus, there were the sensations that he was making her body feel at the moment. 'Time to show him the door,' her conscience suggested.

"Let me show you to the door," she announced as she made glances at him and to the door. She didn't wait for him to make a response, she made her way from the windows and from him. She was about to round the sofa end of her sectional, when she felt flesh wrap around her right wrist and then an invisible force around her waist. She lost control of her body and her feet stumbled against the cold wooden floorboards. Pressure formed against her stomach as she was propelled forward. Her shoulders and her back ended up colliding with one of her living room's walls. It was the wall that held her desk and chair. Lashes of pain ran across her shoulders and down her back upon impact. Her eyes were filled with the sight of a Dauntless leader, clad in black. He invaded her personal territory with aggressive steps and a wicked glower in his azure eyes.

Nasira believed that she wasn't fit for Dauntless, but it didn't stop her from being brave by lashing out at the big, bulky jerk who just assaulted her. "You fucking ass—

She managed to cut off her own words, when the abrasive sound of skin striking skin filled the air. Her right hand immediately stung after it made a collision with his face. Her right hand had gone back for more. Her open palm swung at his face again and he dodged the blow. So she quickly swung her left hand at his face and this appendage managed to hit its target. Like her right, her left hand exploded with the sensation of having thousands of tiny invisible needles poke at the sole. She ignored the odd sensation and continued to defend herself. She pushed at his broad chest. Her shove didn't have any impact on his frame. But _his shove_ did have a powerful impact on her smaller frame. Once again her back and shoulders collided with the wall. He didn't give her the chance to strike him again. His right hand snatched her smaller ones in a tight grip and he guided both appendages to the space above her head. With both of her main weapons gone, he easily stepped into her territory again. She struggled against him.

"Eric," she breathed. She eyed him warily. "What are you doing?" She watched his face draw closer. A trembling whine fell from her lips as she felt his warm breath fan her cheeks, lips and chin. "What are you—?

"Where is that girl that—

Her brow crumpled. "What girl?" she whimpered. "What are you talking about?"

"Where is that girl that I was dancing with earlier tonight? The one who was dancing with me and singing to me?"

"What?" she said in a huff.

She felt his left hand grab a hold of her right hip. His thick, long fingers did a firm squeeze and proceeded to commit a slow ascension towards her waist. His fingers fanned out against her curve and then rubbed themselves against the warm, silken fabric. She squirmed as his thumbnail made appreciative swipes at the outer curve of her right breast.

"Where is she?" he questioned again. "Is she still here?"

"I don't know what you-you mean," she declared. Her dark brown eyes focused on his cold ones. She detected no form of warmth in them, no inkling of compassion. "Eric. I—Aaaa…" Her voice abruptly morphed into a high-pitched, mortified gasp.

His left hand slithered from her waist and now filled its palm up with her right mound of flesh. He ignored her wordless pleas for release as he kneaded the heavy tit in his hand. His fingers sought after the hardened flesh that he was sure that was going to be there. After making several clumsily attempts and gaining several failures, she knew that he reached his breaking point with his patience. His fingers curled over the edge of the cowl neck collar and he pulled down, hard. The small sounds of fabric tearing and thread snapping filled her ears. Her head bowed and she peered down. He ripped her dress' collar. The intricate layout of the collar was now disrupted.

A growl-like, smug laugh escaped his throat. "So you're Dauntless after all," he taunted as fingertip traced the outer ridge of the gold barbell earring that decorated her right nipple. The tip of his nose traced the ridge of her jawline. He brought his lips to her left ear. "Do you have any more?" he whispered.

"Eric, please let—

"Ssshhhh," he hissed in her ear just as his fingers molded to the swell of her breast. He kneaded and massaged the mound while his fingertips occasionally sought after the pierced nipple.

"Eric," she breathed. She made a deep inhale when she felt his probing hand reach up to her throat and grab with a firm yet non-lethal grasp.

"Tell me," he grunted before lining the slope of her neck with kisses.

His fingers slipped into her thick mane and did a full tug. Her scalp released pleas for mercy while her head was pulled back. A hiss slithered pass her clenched teeth. Soon, she felt lips mark its territory on her throat and the underside of her chin. His grip in her head gave her a little bit of slack. She felt grateful for the action, embarrassingly enough. Her lips throbbed when she felt his lips hover above. He would occasionally dipped down and graze hers in a teasing manner.

"Tell me. Is she still here? The one that was so willing to kiss me back…"

It hit her as if it was a sack of money that fell from the sky: the purpose of his bizarre questioning.

"…at Erudite, as we dance? Does she still want me?" he asked her. His fingers released the tuft of hair and crawled down to her throat, where he caressed the sensitive layer of flesh. "Is she still here?" he asked, as she shivered underneath his hand's ministrations.

Nasira silently prayed that Eric couldn't detect her current state. Somehow, her arousal was awakened. It approached fast and sudden like an impromptu, passing thunderstorm. It bloomed somewhere between the incidents of when his hands captured her wrists and when his hand roughly pawed at her dress. By the time she felt his fingers had shown adoration to her chest, a full-fledged fire was burning up her spirit.

"Eric…" she softly cried out. His fingers found its way underneath her dress. His fingertips danced along the seam of her panties and slipped underneath the sheet of thin lace. His knuckles traced her seam, slathering themselves in her nectar. One particular digit felt the need to give her clit a welcoming nudge with every probing swipe. Her short and shrilled gasp escaped her throat as a bolt of pleasure shook her. Her eyes shot open and then withered down to a squint. "Yes," she confessed, a few seconds later. "She's here," she moaned against his lips.

There was a groan, but his lips took her focus away, a short second later. She whimpered with relief as she felt his warm and soft lips plant themselves on hers. The urge to touch his face and to run her fingers through his hair licked at her fingers. She had gone to reach from him and she realized that her wrists were still captured. A second later, air wrapped around her wrists like a pair of cuffs. Her hands were free from captivity and she took advantage of their current status. Her fingers wrapped around the back of his neck and gripped his face. She threw force behind her kisses. He pushed her further into the wall just as his thick tongue pushed its way into her mouth. Both of their moans were swallowed up by each other.

As their kisses deepened, her fingernails lightly scratched at his neck before leaving an invisible trail down to his chest. Her fingers gave the lapels of his lavish jacket a gently tug before they dipped into the jacket. With the urging her fingers, he removed with his jacket without making a sound of reservation. The collar and the buttons of his shirt were the next items that were subjected to her fingers' attention. Her fingernails scraped against the hard surfaces of the plastic buttons as she unfastened them from their slots. The shirt soon followed and joined his jacket on the floor.

As her fingers worked on stripping him from his clothes, his hands sought after the material that was hiding underneath her now-tattered dress. The thick, callused fingers pawed at the scrap of lace until they were pulled away from his sought-after prize. Just as his fingers slipped past the fleshy, dense barrier that made up her thighs, her fingers found her own prize. Her living room was filled with sounds of handmade pleasure.

"Fuck," she heard him moan, during a brief intermission from kissing.

The fact that she was able to make this intimidating leader moan, a sign of his vulnerability, made her ego blush. It also made her inner walls pulsate and pumped out fresh nectar. Her hand stroked at the turgid skin that was his manhood with vigor. A stream of moans were pressed into her lips. A few seconds later, it was her turn after his fingers made a caress and struck certain niche in her.

His tongue found its way to her neck, where it licked at her skin. Her left hand held onto his neck while her head tilted to the side. A hard surface nudged at her left temple and she opened her eyes. Her vision was filled the sight of a wooden plank. It was the side that was a part of her desk's shelf. Her eyes darted over to the chair that was positioned in front of it. An idea flashed in her mind and it caused her cunt's walls to squeeze on his probing fingers.

"Mmmm," he groaned into her neck. His lips unlatched. "I can't wait to feel you on my di—

"I want you…on the chair," she confessed.

She felt vibration against her neck and shoulder as he chuckled. "How freaky of you," he teased. He gave her a chaste kiss. He brought his lips close to her ear. "And I like it." He stood upright and had taken a few backward steps. He glanced over his right shoulder, at the wooden straight-back chair that was a foot away. He gave her smoldering gaze as he traveled over to the chair. Once in front of the furniture piece, his hands pushed his slacks and underwear further down his thighs, revealing flesh to her lust-hungry eyes. He took on an unperturbed stance in the chair: his long legs were slightly bent at the knee and leaned off to the side while his back pressed up against the wooden back of the chair. His head was tilted slightly while there a glaze of amusement covering his face.

With trembling thighs and even shakier sex, Nasira took demure steps over to where he was sitting. Her fingers tugged and pulled on the dress until it slid down her body. Her gaze were focused on every bit of him as she traveled from the wall. She surveyed his muscled torso, the thick columns that he called legs and his manhood, all of which were proudly on display. Her line of sight lingered on the thick muscle and on the pair of heavy sacs that hung below. Her eyes' action did not go unnoticed as his hand gripped his shaft and began pumping lazy strokes.

"Come over here."

Her eyes focused on his face and viewed the arrogant smirk that was etched on his face. She caught the sensation of being busted. Despite being wrapped in a blanket of arousal, her consciousness was aware of the insignificant case of embarrassment that she felt. She pressed on with her actions. Once she approached, her hands grabbed onto the back of the chair while her strong legs straddled his hips as he sat. A strong shiver floated through her as she made contact with his bare body. Her legs wrapped around the back of the chair, in effect trapping him in between her thighs. She watched him jerk his upper body forward, into her personal space and into her embrace. Both pair of lips made contact just as her arms wrapped around his neck. His hands slid down to her hips and held on. He held her over his hardness and subjected her weeping slit to his prick's curious swipes.

"Aaaaa-mmm," she moaned against his lips. Her face tilted to the ceiling and she sung her song of pleasure. Her chin felt his lips brush against and kiss. "Aaah, you feel so good," she breathed.

"Wait until you feel the real thing," he spoke in a husky tone. A grunt was spoken into her chin. "Are you ready for me, baby?"

She bit into her bottom lip and nodded her head. "Mmm-hmm," she moaned.

A kiss was administered to her chin. "Put me in," he instructed. His hands forced her hips to stop moving. He pulled himself from out of her embrace, leaned back against the chair and became a spectator.

Nasira unlocked her legs from around the back of her chair and settled her feet on the floor. Her left hand gripped the back of the chair while her right hand softly rested on his left shoulder. Her hips lifted slightly so her right hand could reach in between their bodies. Her fingers wrapped around the base of his shaft and held him erect while she subjected him to her warmth. Both lovers moaned out upon impact.

'So full,' her brain cried out as she marveled at the sensation of being stretched out. Her sight searched for his reaction and she was blessed with the image of a serene Eric. He faced the ceiling with his eyes closed and his lips slightly parted. His brow ridge was crumpled and nostrils flared. Her lips formed a smile. Laughter reached her lips when she watched his facial features morph into a look of pleasure after he bottomed out and she gave his member a firm tug.

"Oh God, you feel so fucking good," he groaned from deep in his throat. His hips surged forward, a movement urging her to move.

Once her right hand grabbed onto the back of the chair, she complied with his hips' request and soon afterwards, the living room was serenaded with the sounds that their bodies made. The walls were subjected to the melodies of curses, moans and grunts from both mouths. The abrasive noises of their bodies slapping against each other as they merged into one being. The ceiling was subjected to the soundtrack of the chair's legs scraping up against the floor, a reaction to their fast fucking.

She was far from a virgin, but this kind of sex was a new experience for Nasira. Pleasure had gripped her in its red-hot hands and wouldn't let go. It squeezed and squeezed until she felt light-headed and sweltering.

"Eric," she loudly cried out as her body was seized with another orgasm. With her feet planted on the cold floor and her hands on the chair, her pelvis subjected his member with deep strokes that slipped him deeply into her womb. Her forehead pressed itself against his. Her lips planted short, soft kisses on his lips. She kept moving against his hardness even as her quadriceps burned from exertion.

"Fuck!" he grunted just as a hand came crashing down on her ample ass.

A roar of carnal satisfaction grabbed her attention. Her feet suddenly left the floor and were airborne. Her legs wrapped around his hips, out of instinct. Seconds later, her lower back was tapped by a hard surface and then her ass. 'Desk,' her instincts called out to her. She leaned back slightly and her hands held onto his shoulders. Her eyes opened. She was indeed sitting on her desktop. She viewed the body that stood in between her thighs, thrusting pleasure into both of their bodies. Her line of sight zeroed in on the union of their bodies. Her eyes dilated with carnal-infused glee when she spotted his prick piston out of her gash. His shaft was slathered with her lust's evidence. Just the sight of their joining together caused her womb to contract.

Her eyes fluttered close. "Ah," she moaned loudly as her head sank back. It ended butting up against the shelf.

"You're so tight," he grunted into her throat. His teeth skimmed the surface. His tongue soothed the burning edge that his teeth left. His hips slowed their pace just as his lips latched onto the left breast. His lips dotted the outer curves with kisses and then his teeth left a trail of marks. His mouth suckled on the pierced nub with energy. His hips danced in slow circles against her sex, driving his member to be deeply nestled in her warmth and tapping nerve-filled points that she didn't know existed.

"Eric," she mewled as his mouth latched onto her right nipple. Her fingers sifted through the sweaty strands of his locks. Her fingernails did an inadvertent scratch against his scalp. It earned her cunt the opportunity of receiving a sharp thrust. She cried out and tugged on his hair. She received another sharp thrust from his hips. Her body greedily and happily accepted the treatment was waiting for more. "Hard," she whispered. "Hard… Hard… Hard… Hard…" she chanted.

Her lover growled as he took a handful of her hair. His other hand painfully gripped her right hip. He drew her ass to the edge of the desk. He forced his glans to butt up against the opening of her cervix. She winced when a fringe of discomfort tapped her in the lower belly. Her sex-soaked gash quivered in disappointment when it felt his taut member unsheathed itself. Her sex wept in joy and clenched from discomfort, when his member reintroduced himself in the form of a strong thrust. Sound was caught in her throat and she could only breathe.

Eric sank his teeth into her shoulder and proceeded to give her body the pleasure that she wanted. His hips altered their pace. Her body was subjected to strokes that reached deeply but were slow with sharp punctuations. His groin would slap up against her clit, emitting tiny explosions of pleasure. His body's movements made the desk jerk up against the wall and the knick-knacks on the shelf to tremble.

"I'm…I'm… Oh shit, I'm…" she groaned into the top of his head.

"Let go, baby," he grunted.

At his command, her body had gone rigid and tight with climatic fissures. Her fingernails dug into his sweaty shoulders and her hands gripped onto them. Her legs tightened around his waist, drawing his prick deeper into her body. Her mouth sung a trembling wail. In submergence, her conscious was aware of his body's unraveling. His hips released choppy, stilted thrusts and his throat unleashed a stream of grunts.

"Ah…Ah-knee… Anissa, fuck!"

It was a sharp, lust-driven moan. It managed to cut through Nasira's subconscious thoughts and then obliterate the severed remains. Before she could react to his cry, she was rendered completely immobile by his upper body's weight.

'He said… I think he just said her name. Did he think that he was with her throughout this whole time?! He did, didn't he? He's such a fucking asshole!'

The curve of her left ear felt his lips brush up against it, in a gentle absentminded kiss. His mouth moved to her left temple, where another kiss was planted. He peppered the side of her exposed face. Nasira thought of the possibility that Eric was aware of his mouth's snafu. This was his way of trying to make her forget about it. Her face frowned up. Twelve minutes ago, when he was still buried deep in her, she would've believed that his kisses were sensual. Now, it just annoyed her. It was annoying as a buzzing mosquito that would fly around one's ear.

"Get off," she hissed, making her level of annoyance known. Her hands brushed his face away from hers. Then she realized that she sounded as if she was his spurned girlfriend. She gave his face a sideways glance and she repeated her request in a softer tone. She expected from the natural-ornery leader to give her an attitude. Instead, his hand slipped in between their bodies and helped his manhood to eject from her warmth. She whimpered at the sensation of traveling pressure leaving her. She was then subjected to one of infamous lingering glares. He had taken a step away from her. When she was awarded with the opportunity, she hopped off of her desk and she walked out of the danger zone that was Eric's personal bubble.

Her feet's quick trot had taken her to the other side of the living room, to the hallway. She quickly made her way to the bathroom, where she barricaded herself inside. Once alone in the smaller room, she was struck with the gravity of the situation. She just had sex with Eric Coulter, a man who happened to be one of the leaders of their faction. He just so happened to be the same man who she was conspiring with. Then she was reminded of the fact that she just experienced condom-less sex with him, when she felt his seed drip down her thighs. Suddenly, her skin began to dramatically itch and plea for relief, which was in the form of a long shower. Nasira did not wait for the shower water to warm up, she stepped in and proceeded to wash off the evidence of their union. As she showered, the hope of Eric's departure from her home popped up in her mind.

Fortunately for Nasira, when she entered the living room, thirty minutes later, she was alone. Eric had taken her silent departure from the living room afterwards, as his sign to get dress and leave. However, as she stood in the center of her living room, she still felt his presence in her home. She still smelled his strong scent in the room, along with the scent of their sex and her perfume. The thick humidity that built up during their time together managed to wrap around her freshly-washed skin, like a blanket. To her, he was physically gone, but his soul was still there. She decided that she wouldn't rest until she cleaned every surface in her living room.

The young woman proceeded to clean every hard surface that was in the living room and kitchenette area until it filled with the sickly-sweet and pungent scents of cleaning fluid. It was close to dawn, when she slid herself in bed. She fell asleep with the notion that physical traces of the previous night's activities were eradicated like the germs that they were.

Unbeknownst to the twenty-three year old, there was one trace of Eric Coulter left and it was about to form inside of her womb.

*~oMLo~*

Meh! Quit thinking about him!' her conscience instructed.

Nasira rolled onto her back and she grimaced in discomfort. Her sudden action caused fifteen pounds worth of pressure to drop down on her stomach and chest. A few seconds later, she felt more pressure fluttering about inside of her. Her hands touched at her bulging belly and she tracked the movement. She lifted her head off of her comfy pillow and she panned down at the large bump that rested on her stomach. "Sorry for the moving around, buddy" she said to her stomach. She dropped her head back down. Her eyes focused on the ceiling as her hands caressed her stomach's skin. "I'm sorry for everything else too, Lucien."

Approximately two months and six days after that impromptu romp, Nasira learned that her time with the Dauntless leader was going to be a lot more important than she believed it to be. She was in a doctor's waiting room, for her annual physical exam. It was her treating physician, who revealed the news that she was expecting. Of course, she was shocked and it was her shock that led her to go into a state of denial. She thought that the doctor was wrong and it was an error on his behalf. 'Perhaps, he has my blood test results mixed up with another woman's,' was her conclusion. She chose to hold onto that thought.

It wasn't until she was given an ultrasound procedure and she came face-to-face with her occupied uterus, when she came to accept the truth. She was pregnant and Eric was the man who was partly responsible. The notion of having another human being develop in her body left her with a multitude of emotions: shock, fear, anxiety, confusion and then back to fear.

Once she left the clinic and proceeded to walk home, she pondered about the existence of her baby. She didn't know how this all came to be. Well, she knew how babies were created and how to avoid making those babies, but she didn't know _how this baby_ came to be. Since the end of her last relationship, she was a happy recipient of the P-67, a birth control serum that control her cycle for two years. She had to go to Erudite to have the drug administered, intravenously. So, she didn't understand how she ended up pregnant.

It wasn't until she reached her home and after she read up on the P-67 drug, when she discovered the answer to that inquiry. A few months prior, she had to partake in an antibiotics regimen after contracting an infection from a wound on the bottom of her foot. The antibiotics caused the birth control serum to become ineffective, which meant that she was fertile again. Three weeks after ingesting the antibiotics, she had her sexual encounter with Eric.

Nasira came up with her decision to keep her unborn child, before the week was over. She decided against having an abortion and she wasn't going to place her baby up for adoption as well. She was going to become a mother. The young woman knew that this was going to be a "once-in a-lifetime" experience, ever since she knew there was no way that she would ever fall in love again. She had a horrible taste in men and she had bad luck, when it came to finding mates. She knew this fact and she accepted it. Now the only man that she had to deal with was her child's father and she didn't know how he was going to handle this.

A week after her life-changing decision, she met up with Eric. This time, the meeting had taken place in his office, under the ruse that his desktop computer needed repairs. Once she was summoned by his personal secretary and as she traveled to his office-suite, she made the decision that she was going to notify him about the baby's existence. However, once she stepped foot into his office, her cowardice took over. As she stared at him, as he sat behind his desk, she realized that she couldn't say anything. She just stared dumbly at him and just listened to him. She allowed him to interrogate her. When she needed to answer his questions, she just gave him one-word answers. When he dismissed her from his dwelling, she breathed a sigh of relief.

For the rest of her first trimester and the beginning of her second trimester, their interactions were treated in similar fashion, except her personal style purposely changed and she worn clothes that were frumpy. When she began to show and her belly began to expand, she changed up her actions. The secret meetings stopped. Nasira would feign illnesses. Or she would have co-workers lie to Eric's secretary about having days off, when the woman would call her work phone. Or she would avoid walking pass places that she knew that Eric could jump out and force her into. She was aware that she couldn't do this for long and that he would find out about her pregnancy. After all, he did work closely with her mother.

It was indeed through her mother, in which he was notified about Nasira's pregnancy. At one of the leaders' bi-monthly meetings with the ambassadors, Max had publicly congratulated the Grant matriarch for being a grandmother again. Then like most happy grandmothers, Mrs. Grant proceeded to talk about Nasira's progress.

Once her mother told her about her "exciting day" over the phone that night, Nasira expected Eric to show up to her doorstep. She expected the leader to show up and raise hell. She knew that he would try to intimidate her with his cold glares and his well-known act of invading her personal space. She barely received any sleep on that night. Or the next few nights that followed. She expected for the Dauntless leader to do something.

Instead, she received nothing from him. In fact, every bit of interaction stopped. There weren't any phone calls. The secret meetings that occurred in neglected caverns had stopped. She wasn't pulled into darkened alleyways and utility closets anymore. He stopped all forms of communication. She eventually came to the assumption that Eric decided to abandon his plans of destroying Anissa's relationship.

She believed this… up until a day ago.


	3. Chapter 3

***Waves hand***

 **Hello again.**

 **First off, I want to thank all of the readers who are reading this story and are enjoying this story. It just makes me feel so… Relieved. Content. Ecstatic. And pleased. I appreciate each and every one of you.**

 **When it comes to this short story, I am almost finish. Actually, I am finish with the story, but I need to type it up. In regards to adding more sequels, I've decided to add more short stories about Eric and Nasira. I've decided to write them with an 'one-shot' style, meaning, I will write short stories which will be in chronological order, but I was capture 'snapshots of their lives'. For the sake of entertainment value, I will write about the pivotal moments from their lives.**

 **Now, when I post those stories? *laughs nervously while scratching the back of my head***

 **Ummm… Yeah. I don't know about that one. Hell's bells, they are just 'ideas' right now. But when I do write them and then post them on , I will leave an 'update' note in this story, as a new chapter. Okay?**

 **This chapter is a short one and it is the second-to-last chapter. For this one, Eric doesn't make an appearance. But he is mention.**

 **Disclaimer** **: All original characters from The Divergent Trilogy does not belong to me. It belongs to Veronica Roth.**

 **Please rate and review!**

 **Once again, thank you.**

 **And, enjoy!**

*~oMLo~*

"—might as well not bullshit with y'all and just give it to you straight chaser…" Rafe announced as he stood in front of a classroom of the IT professionals that he was in charge of. Thirty-four pairs of eyes were focused on him as he spoke. "…Remember that little Amity project that has been going on for a few years now? You know, the one where people from different factions go live in Amity for months at a time and teach those beatniks how to do things?" There were a smattering of confirmations from the employees. "Yeah? You know? Well, I asked because they are looking for a person to teach a couple of computer courses down there…"

Nasira abruptly sat upright in her chair. Both the chair and the desk shook with force. Her actions and their responses caught Patrick's attention. He stared over at the expectant mom with concern. Nasira did not notice his cautious stares because she was focused on the lanky, tattooed man that stood in front of the classroom. Her friend, and colleague, had to tap her right shoulder, in order to get her attention.

"Are you alright?" he asked her as he eyed her swollen stomach. "You're not in pain, are you?"

'What?' Her delicate features furrowed slightly in confusion. Then she shook her head, once she caught on. "No-no-no-no," she said softly. "I'm fine. I was…just listening to Rafe." She turned her attention back to her supervisor.

"…have to share an apartment, or some shit like that, with a…" Rafe's fingers did the 'quote-unquote' pantomime. "…'host family' and you will also earn credits while you're there, so you don't have to worry about being broke –as-shit…" He took a step to the left. He clapped his hands once. "Okay, this job will require you to live in Amity for ten whole months…"

The room was filled with sounds of astonishment. Computer technicians issued low murmurs and sounds of disbelief. For Nasira, the low squeak of happiness slipped from between her lips.

"…and maybe a few days. I don't have much info about what you'll teach to those hippies while you're there. Your coordinating manager will fill you in, once you get there. I do know that you'll be teaching everyone who wants to learn, so if you hate old people, I suggest you reconsider. If you find children to be annoying, blood-sucking leeches, then I suggest for you to reconsider. So…" Rafe clapped his hands together. "…Any volunteers for this lovely position?"

Nasira's left hand shot up into the air. She even lifted her butt from off of the chair just to make her hand appear higher in the air. "I volunteer!" she proudly announced with a firm, proud voice.

People shifted in their chairs just to see the person who volunteered. She detected the expressions of surprise on a few co-workers' faces. There were the faces of supreme relief etched on others'.

"Nasira, are you okay?" she heard Patrick say softly. "Why are you…?"

She kept her eyes on her supervisor. Rafe walked to the edge of small stage as his hazel eyes were focused on her. "No." His response was clear and precise.

'No?! Why—

"Why not?!" she asked him.

"No," her supervisor repeated.

"But why—

"Why? Is that what you were going to say?" she heard her boss say.

Nasira nodded her head as she settled her left hand on the desk.

"Alright… You can't go because I need you here. You are the best tech that I have," Rafe notified her.

"Well jeez, Rafe, tell us how you really feel," one of the other techs murmured.

"Can it!" the supervisor shouted. It caused several techs to flinch. Rafe returned his stare to Nasira. He pointed his right index finger at her. "No, you cannot go!"

She scoffed. "You have plenty of other great techs here! Me, not being here is not going to stop the boat from sailing, Rafe! I want to go! I am volunteering my services for this!"

Rafe bowed his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Gggggrrrrrrrr," he darkly growled into his hand. He loudly exhaled before he looked at her again. "Apparently you're gonna be stubborn, I see." He sighed. "What about your pregnancy?"

Nasira stared down at her stomach and then back up at him. "What about it?" she asked him.

"Don't you have…?" His left hand did a clumsy dance in front of him. Then he snapped his fingers. "…Doctors and shit? Don't you have to be here to get ready for your kid or something like that?"

"No, I don't. I can get a referral from the clinic doctor and all of my medical records can be accessed by an Amity doctor, from the Bureau of Records. And besides, outside of Erudite, Amity has the best pediatricians and obstetricians, so I am safe in that regards," she pointed out.

He snapped his fingers again. "What about your family? Aren't most of your family members living in Dauntless? Won't they miss you?"

"Faction before blood, Rafe," she pointed out. Secretly, she proverbially rolled her eyes. "So when I can leave for—

"I volunteer!"

Nasira's head snapped to her right. She glowered at Patrick with an intense level of irritation. Her eyes narrowed. "Patrick, if you value your life, then you better…" She reached over and grabbed his raised left arm. "…put your fucking arm down!" she said in a terse whisper. She tried to force his hand down. When she realized that his arm's strength inadvertently overpowered hers, she chose a different route. Her fingers tickled his armpit. Automatically his arm fell down and tried to protect his vulnerable pit. Once his arm fell, she gave his bicep a firm punch.

Afterwards, she returned her attention to Rafe. With a wide, toothy smile she said, "So, when I am leaving?"

Rafe did a slow blink and a deep exhale. "He and your mother and your brothers will have my nuts for this," he said softly. He made another audible exhale. "Fine. You're going."

A smile grew on her face while her heart raced in excitement. "When do I need to go?" she questioned.

"Tonight," he answered. "The first class needs to start on next Tuesday, so it will best if you leave tonight."

She slowly nodded her head. "Cool," she added. 'Now let me go and unleash Hell today.'

Rafe unleashed a booming clap with his hands. People jerked in their seats in reaction. "Alright you fucks, it's time to go back to work!" he announced. He waited for a few seconds, before he pointed to Nasira. "Not you, Grant! You have the rest of the day off! You have to go back to your place and pack! But first… I need you to do one last task for me!"

*~oMLo~*

'This is just getting better and better,' she thought as she strolled back to her cubicle.

"So why did you volunteer to go to Amity?" Patrick asked as he walked alongside her.

She glanced at her friend. "For a couple of reasons. One, it will be a great learning experience."

"You sound like an Erudite, right now," he pointed out.

Her eyes widened. 'Damn, you need to stop that.' She nervously giggled and then she continued. "Two, I'll get to see my brother, my aunts and their families."

"Your brother is a wall leader, right?" he questioned.

"Mmm-hmm," she hummed as she nodded. "So I'll get to spend time with him. Three, I always had a fascination with Amity. My mom has to go there all of the time. Sometimes, she took the kids with her, including me. It's beautiful out there. And that's my third reason."

Both Dauntless members entered the department. "You know…there was a reason why I volunteered to go to Amity," Patrick told her.

Nasira glanced at him. "Oh yeah?" she said as she smiled.

"Yeah," he hummed. He looked down at his shoes and smiled, making his dimples pronounced. "I wanted to go because I thought it would be a romantic gesture for my fiancée…"

 _'Fiancee.'_

 _'Fiancee.'_

 _'Fiancee.'_

Her brain replayed the word repeatedly. A strong chill captured her soul and it caused her to shiver. She paused in her stroll. She gazed at him. "Fiancee?" she murmured.

Patrick stopped walking and he turned to face her. She joined him. She saw the exuberant, goofy smile on his handsome face. "Yeah," I proposed to her two nights ago. I took her to the old pier, where I had candles spell out 'Will you marry me?' for her. She said, 'yes'. We haven't told anybody yet. So, please can you—

She nodded her head. "Sure-sure-sure, I won't say anything to anybody," she promised him.

Patrick smiled. He took a soft hold of her hands. "Nasira, I am going to miss you. Over these past months, I've gotten to know you and I must say that you're awesome. I know that your kid is going to be bless to have you as a mom."

She smiled while her cheeks blushed. "Thank you, Patrick."

They approached her cubicle. From a few feet away, she spotted the orange manila envelope on her desktop. It was wedged in between the bottom of her monitor and the keyboard. She knew what was inside of the package. This was a part of the final task that she needed to perform, for Rafe.

Once they approached her desk, they decided this was where they were going to part. He was the first to speak. "Well, I'm going to leave you to pack up and lock up your things…" His arms made a gesture, a request for a hug. She accepted the offer. As they embraced, she felt his lips give her forehead a kiss. "I'm going to miss you, kiddo."

"I'm going to miss you too," she confessed. They parted from each other and they gave each other a parting glance. "I don't like to say 'goodbye'. It sounds too final. So, I'll say that I will see you later," she informed him.

He gave her a nod. "Alright then. I'll see you later." He gave her a wave and then strolled away.

Nasira watched his retreating figure and smiled wistfully. In her mind's eye, she was presented with an imagined scenario of both of them, running through a field that was filled with autumn leaves. There were two children trailing behind. It was a scene that used to make her smile and grow warm. The warmth was no longer there.

'Please forgive me, buddy.'

*~oMLo~*

If she was an adrenaline junkie, then she would've been enjoying these last few moments. Her body felt like there was a blanket of heat wrapped around her. Her heart was pumping and beating down her chest. She was enduring this tumultuous sensation and she was just riding the elevator.

 _'DING! EIGHTH FLOOR!'_ the robotic voice announced.

Nasira unleashed a nervous huff. "Okay, here goes nothing," she murmured as she walked out of the elevator bay.

The pregnant Dauntless member walked up to the front receptionist desk and clearly stated her purpose for the visit. She made sure that her voice conveyed that she was not there to idly stand around and she had important business to tend to. The receptionist, who was a different woman, gave Nasira verbal directions to Eric Coulter's office-suite. She thanked the woman and proceeded with her task.

She did a quick check of the time, courtesy of her wrist watch. 'God, I have time,' she reminded herself. Her eyes did a scan of the corridor's walls. She eyed the framed art that hung on the walls as she walked. When she reached the glass door that led to the small waiting area that was attached to Eric's office, her nose picked up a scent. Thanks to her pregnancy, her sense of smell was sharp. Her lips formed a smile, when she recognized the sweet, jasmine-scented fragrance. It was the same scent that she always lifted from Patrick's blazers, whenever he would stand close by. It was the same scent that would pollute Eric's office, whenever she would visit the room after noon. It was also the same scent that would radiate from his body as if he was a damn oil diffuser. And it was the same fragrance that stunk up the women's restroom in the Biology Museum, on the night of the Diplomat Banquet.

The scent still lingered in her nostrils as she approached the secretary's desk. With a pleasant smile on her face, she greeted his secretary as she sat at her desk. "Good morning."

"Good morning, how are you?" the receptionist greeted her.

Nasira took note of the receptionist's attitude. She was genuinely friendlier and warmer than the behavior she enacted on the day before. She also looked different as well. Yesterday, she wore a black pixie cut. Now, she was spotting a perfectly spherical, bald head. According to her, the bald look flattered her more. It had gone well with the face tattoo.

"I'm doing well," replied Nasira. Her hands reached for the package. The manila envelope was not there. Her eyes widened in alarm. "Shit," she muttered.

The receptionist sat upright in her chair. She was about to reach for her phone's receiver. "Ma'am, is there a problem with you or your baby?" she asked, genuinely concerned. "Should I call for the patrolmen?"

Nasira shook her head. "No-no-no-no, that's not it. I'm fine. I… I… I… I think that I just left your boss' tablet on my desk. I'm so-so-so-so sorry about that. We were just in a meeting and I was given the tablet and he... Well, shit! Shit! Shit!" she announced to the woman.

"Well, I don't think it is going to be a problem," the woman announced. She sounded so sweet and concerned for Nasira's well-being. "You can always go back to your desk and pick it up," she suggested.

"What about your boss?" Nasira asked. "Is he going to be here—?

"Right now, he is taking an important conference call and he will be in there until two-thirty, so he won't miss it," she informed the pregnant woman.

"He'll be in there until…"

"Until two-thirty? Yes, he will be in there. You can make a quick trip to your desk and pick it up. Is your office far away?" the receptionist asked.

"No, it's n-n-not," breathed Nasira. She took a few steps away from the desk. "L-Let me go now—

"Yes, that's the best thing to do," the secretary pointed out.

Nasira gave her a simpering smile before she exited the room. On quick footsteps, she made her way back to the elevator bay. She waited for an available carriage. She took the elevator to the first floor, where she hopped off. She walk through the first floor lobby. She eyed several passersby as she casually strolled in the space. She walked to the series of glass sliding doors and then she exited The Mind. Nasira walked the two blocks to the neighborhood, where she parked her Jeep Wrangler. She peered into the backseat and peeped the cardboard box that was stored on the seat. The bright, hot pink stress ball inadvertently caught her eye as she traveled to the rear of the car. She leaned up against the trunk's door. She pulled her cell phone from her back pocket. Her fingers expertly dialed a number into the keypad. She pressed the phone to her ear and she listened to the ringtone. A few seconds later, she heard the call connect.

"Good afternoon, Systems Analyst Department, this is Patrick Sullivan. How may I—?"

"Patrick, this is Nasira! Oh shit! Shit-shit-shit-shit!" she said into the talk piece. Her voice sounded frantic.

Patrick picked up her sense of panic. "Nasira? What's wrong? Is it the baby? Or-or-or—

"No-no-no, it's not me! I'm fine and the baby's fine!" she assured him. Her voice still held the fringe of panic. "I-I-I-I just need your help! I forgot to do something for Rafe! I was just so fucking happy and busy—I'm just so fucking stupid! I—

"What's wrong? I'm sure we can find some solution to your problem! What's wrong?!" he asked, his voice just as frantic as hers.

Her cheeks burned with pity. "I forgot to drop something off, at one of the leaders' office. I just realized that I left it on my desk. Right now, I'm stuck in traffic and on my way—

"Is that it? You needed to drop something off?" His level of relief secreted from the phone. "Oh, I can do that for you. Now tell me where it supposed to go."

"It-It's supposed to be given to Eric Coulter. His office is on the eighth floor. The front desk lady will tell you how to get there. Patrick, you need to drop this off right now! He is expecting it and I know that it is important for him," she explained with a tremble to her voice.

"Alright, alright I'll drop it off for you, right now. Okay? So stop worrying, okay?" he told her, his voice going back to its sweet-calmness.

A pair of tears dropped from her eyes. She quickly wiped at them with her hand. "Yeah, I won't worry. Thank you, Patrick."

He chuckled. "It's no problem, Nasira. No problem at all. Now, get off of this phone before a patrolman catches you on here. Okay?"

She nodded her head. "Yes sir."

"Have a safe trip, sweetheart."

"Thank you."

"I'll see you later, Nasira."

She giggled. "I'll see you later, Patrick." The phone call was gently disconnected.

Nasira numbly placed her cell phone into her jeans' back pocket. Her eyes scanned the neighborhood. Then, she strolled over to the driver's side and she entered her vehicle. Her fingers placed the key into the ignition and she strapped herself down with the seatbelt. Her fingers reached up to touch the rear view mirror. She caught the reflection of her eyes.

She fell into a fit of tears, once she realized that she couldn't stand the sight of the person that she saw.

*~oMLo~*

Nasira knew that she needed to pack for her ten-month stay in the Amity faction, as soon as she stepped pass the threshold to enter her home. Yet, when she stepped into her living room, she made the mistake of taking a good look around. After eying the framed photos, the ornate light installation that hung from her ceiling, the easels in one corner and the books that lined her bookshelves, the soon-to-be mother became overwhelmed. She didn't know which items to pack and which room to begin her packing process. Inside of her head, she was bombarded with suggestions. She had to sit down on her sectional and take a twenty-minute break, in order to sort through the mental mess.

Behind her hands, she muttered to herself. "Okay, I am going to be gone for ten-whole-months, what do I need to bring? Let's just focus on the vital stuff, okay?" She removed her fingers away from her eyes and she scanned the other side of her living room. 'Clothes,' was her first suggestion, as she eyed the hallway's entrance. "Alright," she sighed. She stood up and then traveled to her bedroom. Once inside of her personal dwelling, she produced three large plastic bins from her walk-in closet. She began pulling clothes out of her drawers and closet. "Clothes… Clothes… Clothes," she muttered. She proficiently packed her clothes into the bin. After a while, she heard, 'Don't forget about your winter stuff. You'll be there for the cold weather,' her brain reminded her. "Right… Right about that one," she murmured. She proceeded to pack those items as well. Her brain then suggested her items from the bathroom and she packed her toiletries. The suggestion of packing her unborn son's belongings entered her mind next and she complied. Then there was the idea of packing some books as well; ones that she could read during her relaxed periods of time and that led to the idea of packing some of her art supplies, including her camera and its paraphernalia. She placed those in a storage bin. She continued this process until she didn't have any more bins to fill. Afterwards, she stood in her living room, staring at those storage bins while feeling proud of herself. "Okay, I did—

Her thought was cut off by the sounds of a nasal-toned, siren. She recognized the noise: it was a ringtone from her cell phone. It was an alert, actually. It was an alert from the Dauntless Alert System. It only had gone off if something bad happened within the faction's perimeters. A chill clung to her skin while her heart hammered in her chest. Her mind unleashed a terrible thought. Imaginative thoughts that consisted of yellow, 'caution...' tape, blood-stained floors and two men in handcuffs plagued her mind. Her throat constricted and the joints in her jaw tighten in reaction. She shook her head slowly. "No," she breathed. Her feet broke out in a fleet trot to the island counter that separated the kitchen from the living room. Her phone rested on the countertop. Her fingers snatched the phone and she proceeded to read the alert's posting.

 _'Vehicular Accident on Smith and 7th. Delays will be expected. Take detour routes.'_

Once she read the message, her sense of relief had struck so hard that she felt her son jolt in her womb. She bent slightly at the waist while her hands held her expanded stomach and her chest. "Oh thank the gods!" she sighed loudly before capping it off with a laugh.

She stared at the phone in her left hand was suddenly reminded of the act of notifying her mother about her new adventure. She quickly dialed her mother's office number and proceeded to notify the Grant matriarch about her new job as "software consultant" for the learning center in Amity. Her mother was happy for Nasira, but she was worried for her ever since she was so close to her due date. She attempted to assuage the level of her mother's concerns by doling out facts about Amity's medical facilities. She also stated that Amity held more advance facilities than Dauntless. Her mother eventually came around to the notion. She ended up calling Malachi afterwards to tell him the news, but she was unable to speak to him. So, she left a short detailed message on his voicemail system. Her apartment building's manager was the last person she called.

After having two maintenance men cart off her belongings and then place them in her vehicle, she was officially prepared to leave for Amity. Outside of the building, she had a short conversation with the building manager, who wished her a 'safe travel' and gave her the promise that her apartment will still be available to her. She thanked the man and then she had gone to her jeep. Once inside, she unleashed a body trembling exhale. She felt her muscles instantly relaxed. Her son decided to make his presence known by creating a series of flutters inside of her. She stared down at her belly. "You felt that too, huh?" she said sweetly with a smile. She started the ignition on her vehicle. The engine underneath the hood roared as it was awakened from its sleep. She gazed out of the windshield, at the somewhat desolate road that was presented. "Now let's get the hell out of here." Seconds later, her car pulled away from the sidewalk's curb and she was driving.

With her eyes and the majority of her awareness on the road, Nasira recalled her morning as she commandeered her four-door jeep down mostly empty streets; streets that would eventually lead her to her Heaven.

On the previous night, as she struggled to fall asleep after visiting 'Memory Lane' by recalling the night of Lucien's conception, she had finally reached her breaking point. It didn't come in the form as she expected, which was loud and violent like an explosion. It came to her in the same manner that a mother would comfort her child: safe and calming. She was laying in her bed, when she realized that Eric would forever chase after Anissa while she taunt him with empty promises and unreal possibilities. Even though she was never informed about their upbringings and their relationship by Eric, there was an instinct that the young doctor most likely presented herself as a beacon of light for him. He was still in love with the Anissa that she presented to him and not the woman that she really was. Nasira felt the same way about Patrick too. He was in love with a façade. She knew that there was nothing that she could do, in order to change their minds. Nasira knew that she could only make changes for the situations that pertained to her. She was certain about one thing she wanted to change and that was her relationship with the Dauntless leader. She wanted to be 'done' with Eric Coulter, as well as, with Anissa Howard and the things that pertained to the both of them.

So, she came up with a way to sever her connection to them. When she first came up with the tumultuous plan, she quickly discarded it. It was too dramatic, too risky and too dangerous for all of the parties involved. But eventually her conscience reminded her that she needed to do this. So, by the time she had fallen asleep, she had a plan. Nasira knew that in order for Eric to finally have his 'dream girl', the truth had to come out. She knew that she had to work out the kinks in her plan, but she was confident that it would work.

One detail of her plan came to her during a least suspected time, in the least expected place. For her first obstetrician appointment, she had to go to the faction's infirmary. She was in the waiting room of the Dauntless medical clinic, waiting to be examined by her obstetrician, when she noticed a chart in the nurses' station. The chart was actually a tall, dry erase board that was mounted on the back wall. The colorful ink was the feature that really caught her attention, but her curiosity caused her to read the chart's features. The chart, it turned out, was really a time schedule. A time schedule for every physician that worked out of the clinic. Her eyes scanned while her brain read the doctors' names and the times that they worked for the week. She came to a pause when her eyes reached a familiar name. In fact, her sense of smell's memory brought up the scent of jasmine, as she stared at the name and the schedule. She didn't understand why she found this information so important, at the moment. But she had chosen to follow her instinct anyway. By the time Nurse Catherine approached Nasira to escort her to an examination room, she remembered Doctor Anissa Howard's work schedule.

She was reminded of the good doctor's work schedule, when she hugged Patrick and she smelled the scent of jasmine from off of his shirt. At that moment, her eyes caught the sight of the orange-colored, manila envelope that was on her desk. She knew what was stored inside of the envelope, Eric's new tablet. Her eyes darted over to the electric clock that was on her desktop. The face read '1:33 PM'. Anissa started lunch at 1:00 PM and she didn't have to return until 3:00 PM. Nasira figured that her two-hour lunch break would be enough time for her to have a romp with Eric and clean up, before she returned to work. She thought it would've been possible. But she had to make sure. So after packing up her desk and placing her things in her jeep, she made a visit up to the leadership wing. After all, she was doing Rafe a favor.

The one thing that she didn't plan for was the 'Dauntless volunteer project' that she volunteered for. The moment she listened to Rafe speak about the teaching job, Nasira realized that she did not want to be within the blast's radius, once she dropped the bomb on Eric and his secret courtesan. She had a hunch that this reveal was going to leave a lasting impression on more than the three people that were involved. She also felt like Eric would've definitely make a visit to her home before the night was over.

The only person that she felt was a victim was Patrick. She didn't even believed she was a victim. She just hoped that karma didn't catch up to her, via her son. As she drove her jeep through an intersection, she silently prayed for the sweet, humbled man. She wished for him to be alright in the end. She believed that Eric and Anissa deserved each other, which she believed was a suitable punishment for Eric. If Malachi's amateur character assessment for Anissa was correct, then the leader would pay for his actions eventually. She believed that his punishment would be more like arsenic in a pitcher of sweet tea instead of a torture regimen from the Spanish Inquisition. Nasira believed that the deceptive woman would dismantle his strength and break down his willpower to survive while possessing a smile on her face.

'Whatever her reason is, Eric is going to suffer from it,' she silently concluded. She made a left turn onto a busier street. Her eyes glanced at the dashboard's clock and she read the time. She memorized the time. She decided that this was going to be the last time she would think of Eric Coulter.


	4. Chapter 4

***waves again***

 **Okay, guys... I lied. There will be another chapter to this story. This is only because the last chapter is too long for it to be on one page.**

 **How long? Well, in my Word document, it is almost 45 pages long. So, I've decided to split it up and make it into two chapters.**

 **Consider this page to be 'Last Chapter, Part One'.**

 **Alrighty, let's go through the regular spiel.**

 **Warning : This is Rated M. For adult language, adult language. There is no lemon in this chapter. **

**Disclaimer : All original characters from the Divergent Series do not belong to me. They belong to Veronica Roth.**

 **Please rate and review.**

 **I would like to give thanks to every one who have read this story and left reviews. Or even 'favorite it'.**

 **Enjoy!**

Ten months, three weeks and six days later

It was approximately seventeen minutes before Nasira could view Dante's version of Heaven. Dawn was approaching and she was still awake. Her case of insomnia didn't stem from a late night feeding for Lucien, a ten-month old little boy was asleep in his crib at that particular moment. No, its formation hailed from a mild sense of anxiety that started to develop on the previous week. A split second after her Aunt Eula reminded her that she was going back to Dauntless in a few days. Dauntless, a place that she didn't think about during her ten-month sabbatical, here in Amity. The moment her sneaker-clad feet touched the infamous red clay that made up the roads in the faction, she stopped thinking about Dauntless. She stopped thinking about the home of the warriors with their dilapidated structures, the dirty air, the dark underground dwellings, the toxic machismo that ran through the men's veins along with their blood, the fighting and the short tempers. She didn't miss any of it. Sure, she indeed miss the members of her intermediate family: her mother, her uncle, her brothers and cousins. But if she had to choose between the choices of staying in Amity forever or going to back to Dauntless, she was sure that her family would understand.

The sounds of sleep-induced cooing pulled her out of her stream of sub-consciousness. She peered down at the plastic, white box that her left hand was holding. She listened to the sounds that came from the baby monitor for a few seconds before coming to the conclusion that Lucien was still asleep. 'Lucien,' her brain sang, which made her heart released a few hard poundings against her breast bone. Her belly shivered, in response. A smile was drawn on her lips, in reaction to the mere mentioning of his name. 'I still can't believe this is real,' she inferred.

The 'this' being the act of feeling the intense level of love for another human being. She had never experienced this type of love for anybody. Not even for the five men who were boyfriends, during past moments of her life. According to Nasira, it was an amazing but scary sensation. She knew that she was in love with her son after the split second she saw a tiny orb on that ultrasound screen. By the time he was expelled from her body and his naked, squalling form was placed on her stomach, she was in 'unconditional love' territory. She made a wordless promise to her baby boy that she would always protect him and support him in any of his decisions. Well, the ones that are within reason. She knew that she wouldn't have any qualms with the notion of whipping his ass, if he even thought about pulling some of the shit that his father had pulled.

'Eric,' her brain groaned. She grimaced and then rolled her eyes, when a snapshot from a memory popped up in her mind. 'Ugh, I said that I wouldn't think of him. No… That's a lie. You've been thinking of him since Lucien was born…' Nasira leaped off of the wooden porch's stairs that led to her small cabin, her temporary home. "He looks just like him. A slightly tanner version of him, but still, he looks just like him," she mumbled to herself.

She strolled in the generous, grass-covered territory that was in between her cabin and the large farmhouse that was directly across. As her feet walked through the grass, she continued to think about her son, and regrettably, his father. She thought about Eric a few times during her first week in Amity. She expected for him to show up in the faction of peace, ready to give her a piece of his mind. She expected to come home on one evening to find his black, formidable truck parked in Aunt Eula and Uncle Silas' driveway. But all of those negative thoughts were built for nothing, because he never appeared. The only black, formidable trucks that shown up, belonged to her mother and brothers.

Once Lucien was born, she ended up thinking about Eric very frequently. It didn't help that her son was the spitting image of him with a few minor features. His skin tone was slightly different than his father's tone. For the first few weeks of his brand new life, he was pale and ended up naturally developing a toasty tint to his skin. His lips were fuller than his father's lips, a feature that she was sure that he inherited from her. His eyes were a darker shade of grey. His irises reminded his mother of a cloudy, overcast sky. Otherwise than those differences, he resembled his father.

"You're up early!"

Once again, she was lured out of her sea of thoughts. She looked up from the grass and looked towards the back of the farmhouse. She noticed her Uncle Silas standing on the porch. He was staring at her and was in the process of buttoned up his shirt.

"You're excited about returning to Dauntless?"

She was secretly pleased to hear her uncle say 'Dauntless' rather than 'home'. She gave a weak smile and shrugged her shoulders. She approached the porch's steps. "I don't know, if I am honest…" She climbed up the first three steps. "…I do miss my mom and my brothers. But I don't think that I miss the faction… at all," she confessed as she sat on the top step.

She heard footfalls against the planks of wood. "What about the boy's father? Do you miss him?" he asked seconds later.

Nasira grimaced. "To be quite honest with you: No, I don't."

"Why not? He wasn't nice to you or something?"

She was about to answer his question as she turned to face him, but she came to a halt once she saw his face. Her uncle's voice remained neutral of emotion, but his eyes told another story. There was a malevolent energy swirling around in those orbs.

'You can take the man out of Dauntless, but you can't take the Dauntless out of the man.' She shook her head. "No. He didn't _'hurt me'_ hurt me. He was a…" Then she paused. 'Should I tell him?' her conscience whispered, contemplating. With a sigh spilling from her mouth, she made a decision. "Uncle Silas, if I tell you something—

His hand sliced through the air in front of him, horizontally. "I'll take your secret to the grave, if you want me to," he promised her.

A huge cloud of relief filled her spirit. She changed her position of sitting: she swung her legs to the top step and brought her knees up, close to her chest. She placed the baby monitor next to her left hip and then her arms wrapped around her knees. She gave her uncle a glimpse before speaking. "Lucien's father is a man that I had a 'one-night stand' with. He's…" She tilted her head. "…a Dauntless soldier, a very prominent one in our faction. We only ended up together because he wanted to make his girlfriend jealous…" She scoffed and released a joyless chuckle. "…Shit, he even said her name while we were—You know what, never mind that part." She flexed her feet. After a moment of silence, she spoke again. "I should be use to this kind of treatment by now," she said softly. She looked at the sky. She took note of the lavender and the streaks of pale pink. Her vision was becoming blurry and her eyeballs were starting to sting as her mind opened the container that held memories that pained her.

"I'm… I've been used… By men, before. I'm just a girl who men use for the time being until the better one comes along. Or, they're waiting for their _dream girl_ to become single again and they don't want to keep their dicks in their pants in the meantime," she confessed. She looked towards the cabin. "First, there was Derek. He was my first love..." She recalled the young teen's handsome face. "I was fourteen at the time and he was fifteen. We didn't… _do_ anything, but he was my first love. Well, _I_ consider him to be my first.' She felt her chest tense up as she recalled their break-up. 'He went running off to Candor, on his Choosing Day to chase after this girl that he really liked...' She shook her head softly. '...A fucking girl that he _only liked_ and never dated!" she harshly murmured. She sniffled. "Well, that one hurt badly."

A strong, warm breeze flew into the backyard, making wind chimes sing and the trees' branches sway. The warm air slightly dried her tear-stained cheeks. "Then there was Micah. He was an Erudite-transfer, who I met during my initiation trial. He was in my class. We were both sixteen and he was definitely my… _first_." Her cheeks blushed in mild embarrassment at having to admit that fact to her uncle. "He just used me. He knew that I was a part of the Dauntless founders' families and he thought that I could help him from being factionless. He already had a girlfriend in our faction. She was older than us." She pursed her lips. "That was another one."

"Baby, you don't have to tell me anymore, if you don't want to," Uncle Silas reported. "If you're going to feel sad—

"No, I want to tell you, Uncle Silas" she said with a head nod. "I haven't told anybody this. Not even my mother." She shook her head. "Not even my mother," she murmured. She stared at the third step. "Shooter came along, two years after the second one. He was an accountant…" She glanced at her uncle. "…He was Max's accountant. So of course, he was an older man. He made me feel beautiful…and smart… and mature, like a woman who runs a big company or something like that. You know?" She smiled. She felt her face scrunched up. "He was separated from his soon-to-be ex-wife at that time. She left him to go be with some fence watcher. He was destroyed by her. He was single for a year and then he met me. I was sent to his office, one day, to fix his copy machine. He was flirtatious and I was just plain ol' stupid." She scratched at her scalp. "Long story short, his wife returned to claim what was hers and I was pushed to the sidelines." She stretched out her legs and placed her hands on her lap. "There was Landing, the fourth guy. He ended up knocking up some initiate on her graduation night and ended up marrying her." Her top lip curled. "Then there's Prairie."

"Something tells me that Prairie is the one that you don't like the most," Uncle Silas pointed out.

"You're correct," she told him. She folded her legs and sat cross-legged. Her fingertips danced on her thighs. "I met Prairie when I was…" She paused. Her face contorted into an expression of contemplation. "…uuuuhhhh…Twenty, I think." Her features smoothed out and gone back to normal. "Anyway, he was another Dauntless-born. I've known him all of my life. He was older than me, so he knew my brothers as well. We met in a tattoo parlor. In our first conversation, he told me that he was named 'Prairie' because he was conceived in an Amity field…" She looked at her uncle. "…He didn't use those _exact words_ , Uncle Silas, but I am trying to be respectful."

Her uncle chuckled.

She smiled. "I should've known then that he was a piece of shit."

Silas laughed louder and more boisterous.

"He was very handsome. He looked like he could've been one of those comic book characters that were in those books that Hansen liked reading. Remember those?" she pointed out. She viewed her uncle nod his head, remembering his son's pastime. She sighed. "We were good, up until six month in. That's when he cheated on me and I caught him… For the first time."

" _For the first time;_ how many times did he cheat on you, Nassy?" asked her uncle.

"From what I remember… Twelve times. Four of them were with the same trashy-ass woman. She was the one that he left me for," she confessed.

"Why did you stay with him?"

'That's the "One Million Dollar Question" right there.' She stared at her uncle. "Because I wanted to be with somebody, that's why. I wanted to be in love with somebody, a man who wanted me back. He always told me that he loved me, even though he had a wandering eye. I did loved him. He told me that he wanted me and no one else. When he finally did leave me, we were living together in an apartment. I came home to find my belongings in trash bags, out in the hallway. I wanted answers, so I confronted him. He told me that he wanted me out because he didn't love me. He never loved me. He was always in love with her. He only stayed with me because he needed a place to stay until he got back on his feet. Then he slammed the door in my face."

"Nassy," she heard her uncle sigh.

She felt his compassion. It caused an already-crumbling wall of resolve to break down. She bowed her head, when her mouth allowed a sob to escape. She hands planted themselves, palms down, across her mouth. She sobbed into her hands as her skin was soaked in salty water. She didn't hear her uncle walk over to where she was sitting. When she felt the old man gently pull her into his embrace, she fell into it. She cried into the man's right shoulder. Silas, while squatting, allowed her to empty out her grief.

"I was pregnant," she confessed in a soft murmured, after her moment of crying.

"Nassy, what happened to the baby?" he queried, fear lace in his voice.

She sniffled. "I got rid of it," she cried. "I ended up getting it terminated."

She heard Silas hiss. She knew how Amity members felt about abortions. There were some faction members that reminded Nasira of those wayward groups from many centuries ago.

"That's why, when I found out about Lucien, I knew that I was going to keep him."

"I would be lying to you if I said that I don't feel supportive of your previous decision. But I am happy that you have realized that _that_ was something that you never want to do again," Silas told her. He sat on the top stair. He looked out into the field of grass. "I hope everything will work out for you, Nassy. Because you deserve it."

"Thank you, Uncle Silas."

*~oMLo~*

'It's time to go,' her brain reminded her.

She watched her aunt and uncle stand by her Jeep Wrangler while her young cousins chased each other around her vehicle. Her Aunt Eula recently strapped a sleeping Lucien into his car seat, in the backseat. Unlike the first time she had her vehicle packed, she packed light for this trip: a pair of suitcases and a diaper bag. Over the past ten months, Nasira managed to accumulate more items, which led to her choosing the option of having all of her possessions mailed to her apartment in Dauntless.

"Kids, come over and say 'goodbye' to your cousins!" announced Eula.

A pair of identical twins stop chasing each other and then ran over to the driver's side of the jeep. The children ran up to an approaching Nasira and immediately hugged her legs.

"Goodbye, Cousin Nassy!"

"Bye-Bye, Cousin Nassy!"

Both boys said their farewells simultaneously, which added to their charm and upped the levels of adorability. Her cheeks blushed and her skin grew warm. She planted an affectionate pat on each of their heads. "Bye sweethearts! I'm gonna miss you both! You two were my best helpers, when I needed you guys! Thank you, okay?"

"We're going to miss you," her cousin Silas Junior stated.

"Me too!" his brother Wyatt added. "Can we go over and say 'goodbye' to Luke?"

Nasira smiled. "I don't see why not. Go ahead!" She viewed the boys scamper off to the vehicle.

Her Aunt Eula immediately began to fuss. "Now boys, don't get in Luke's face! He is still sleeping!"

The new mother strolled up to the back of her jeep, where the family was huddled. Each parent held a child up, so they could peer at the sleeping toddler. Each boy whispered their farewells to the baby. Once freed from their parents' grasps, the twins ran off to play. The adults were left to say their goodbyes to each other. Silas Senior was the first person to speak. His farewell was short and surprisingly unemotional. He gave his niece a stiff hug, which was a deep contrast to the affection that he gave her earlier. Once he was free, he notified his wife that he was going off to help one of their neighbors. Then he walked away.

As soon as he was out of hearing range, Eula turned to her niece and said, "He's really going to the shed and be sad for a few hours. He hates saying goodbyes".

Relief cooled Nasira's shoulders. "Oh," she sighed. "Well, I hope that you don't hate saying goodbyes because I don't think that I could handle another stiff goodbye right now."

Eula laughed and then smiled. "No, of course not! I don't mind them because it's never really…" She proceeded to embrace her niece. "…a goodbye. I will eventually see you again."

"Goodbye, Aunt Eula. And once again, thank you for your hospitality!"

"Like I told you before, the pleasure was all ours," was Eula's response.

The two women parted. Eula closed the rear passenger door while Nasira climbed into the driver's seat. The older woman strolled up the driver's side.

"Don't forget to call me, when you get home," the woman alerted her niece.

"I'm promise you that I won't," Nasira said to her with a smile.

The aunt took a few backward steps away from the jeep and then waved. Nasira reciprocated with the wave for a few seconds before she started up the engine and pulled off. The wheels of her jeep crushed the soft red clay that made up Eula and Silas' driveway while her eyes did a brief scan, in the rear view mirror. Just like suspected, Eula's image was in the center of it. The older woman stood in her driveway, staring down at the departing car and waving with a big smile on her face. When she peeled her attention off of the mirror and back on the road, her cheeks were wet with tears. Her right set of fingers quickly wiped away the tears.

"Now, I see why Uncle Silas goes to the shed," she mumbled to herself, before proceeding to drive out of Heaven.

*~oMLo~*

It was in the early stages of the afternoon, when Nasira and Lucien departed from the farm in the southwest sector of Amity. When she reached the city's limits, it was mid-afternoon and it was approaching dusk, when she arrived into the Dauntless sector of Chicago. As her jeep pulled up alongside the curb that sat across from her apartment building, it was certified nighttime. She knew that she would've arrived home at an earlier time, if she didn't have to stop to give an impromptu diaper change for Lucien.

"Home, sweet home," she said softly as she stared out of her window, at the façade of the building. She fetched her phone from off of the front passenger's seat and aptly dialed Rogue's telephone number.

He answered after the first ring. "You outside?" he greeted her.

Nasira chuckled. "Well 'hello' to you too, Rogue. And yes, I am outside, waiting."

Rogue scoffed. "Well, someone sounds a little cranky."

She rolled her eyes.

"Don't leave your jeep yet. Wait for me. I'll see you in a second," he commanded.

"Alright, see you in a few," she spoke into the talk piece. She disconnected the call and placed the phone underneath her shirt, tucked away in her nursing bra. Her tender left breast resented the action, causing tiny fissures of discomfort to radiate. She slightly grimaced. 'Speaking of soreness, Luke is due for another feeding soon.'

Rogue soon joined her. After having a multi-second, tender reunion with each other, he helped her unpack her vehicle and carry her belongings to her apartment while she handled a slightly cranky Lucien. A typical ten-minute trip to her home had taken a little longer due to a few other tenants who wanted to make conversation with the new mother. After all, the last time they've seen her, she was still pregnant with her son. Being the proud mother that she was, Nasira stopped and spoke to each person, as they fawned over her son. Once she arrived to her apartment, she was officially tired. She was also grateful for her brother, who upon his arrival had managed to put away most of her belongings.

Before she could cross the living room to get to the sectional, the soon-to-be toddler began to paw at the front of her shirt and become fussy. 'Like clockwork,' her brain mumbled. She quickly made it over to the couch section and proceeded to nurse her son.

"So, I— WHOA!"

Nasira eyed her brother as he immediately slapped his right hand over his eyes.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" he shrieked in horror.

The new mom took a peek at her son, who was still nursing but he had a curious glare at his uncle.

"Rogue, keep your got-damn voice down, you'll disturb my neighbors!" she chastised him with a much lower and softer voice than his.

"Nassy, what-the-hell are you doing?!" he responded with an equal softer tone.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" she uttered to him.

"I don't want to _see_ what you're doing right now! I just want to know why you're still giving that big ass boy the titty!" he pointed out.

"For someone who is smart enough to be a nurse, you act soooo dumb," was her response.

"I am not a nurse, I am a clinician's assistant!" he corrected her with an indignant tone in his voice.

"You're a nurse, buddy-boy…" She stared down at her son. "You should know that there are mothers out here, who will breastfeed babies up until they're one years old," she informed him.

"I know. But why are you breastfeeding a kid, who clearly looks like he could put away a Dauntless 'Double-Trouble' cheeseburger, a medium-sized fries and a slice of Dauntless cake, by himself?!"

A soft smile touched her lips after her brother made his joke. Rogue was right; Lucien was bigger than the average ten-month old boy. Currently, he appeared to be the size of a one-and-a half year old toddler. She remembered the times when some Amity members would assumed that Lucien was a one-year old boy in a stroller. But she knew that those types of reactions and assumptions were going to be made. She knew as soon as her midwife's assistant told her his weight and height, after he was born.

"Then, _you would know_ that he is not getting his nutritional intake from my breast milk only…"

"Uuugggghhh, you just mentioned your breast milk," groaned Rogue, with a mixture of sadness and disgust in his voice.

"…I am feeding him food, just like the other babies eat. He may eat a little more than the average baby…"

Her brother snorted, in response.

"…But, he is being fed." She looked at the brother. "He's just nursing off of me because it is a coping mechanism. It's kind of like a pacifier or a toy for him," she further explained.

"Well, you have some huge knockers, so I know that he has a fun time playing with them," jested Rogue.

Nasira looked at the contents on her couch, looking for a suitable one to throw at her brother. When she didn't find one, she settled with tossing him an insult. "For a nurse, you're such an ass!"

"I'm not a nurse!" A moment of silence had passed before he spoke again. "Please, don't turn out to be one of those moms who allow their ten-year old sons to suck on their nipples."

Nasira snorted. "I don't think that I will go that far, Rogue. It's bad enough that he will be the only Dauntless kid being raised by a single mother. I don't want him to have any more…quirks about him."

"Good, because I don't want to have to beat up a bunch of ten-year old boys because they're making fun of my nephew because he is still breastfeeding," he pointed out.

Nasira laughed. She felt a strong nudge against her collarbone. She looked down to see Lucien push at her chest and turn his head away. It was his sign of saying that he had his fill and he was feeling calm. She watched him sit up in her lap and rub at his eyes, before he had taken a curious glance at his new surroundings. She then fixed herself up and then gave her brother the notification that he could look around.

Rogue peeled his right palm away from his eyes and opened them. He did a few blinks before settling on the sight of his sister and his nephew. His facial features morphed into a mask of excitement. "Hhhheyyyy Lucien!" he cheered in a soft voice, attempting to retrieve the child's attention. He walked over to the sectional and sat down in an unoccupied space that was closest to the baby.

Nasira viewed her son's reactions. He gave Rogue a glimpse before giving his mother a glance. She knew that he needed her validation that his uncle was a safe source to go to. She giggled and nodded her head. "Yeah, you can go to Nurse Rogue," she announced in high-pitched, jovial voice.

"Now, that's just plain ol' mean of you, Nassy" her brother told her. His sister's barb was all soon forgotten, when a laughing and smiling Lucien crawled into the space that was in between them, before settling onto his lap. The uncle peered down at his nephew. "Hi, buddy-boy! Hi, man!" The boy just giggled in response, which made the adults laugh. Then the baby began to have a conversation with his uncle, using his babbling. Rogue, being the naturally nurturing person that he was, proceeded to follow. After a moment of stimulating conversation with his nephew, he turned to the boy's mother and said, "Ssssoooooo… Who's his father?" He received a firm punch on the arm for his troubles, which garnered a laugh from Lucien. He gave his sister a look of disbelief. "What?"

"That was a rude question, Rogue."

"How is that a rude question?! I just want to know because I care about you and Luke, here… Plus, I would like to know who the guy is, so I can beat-the-shit out of him for missing out on this boy's life," he reported.

Another soft smile touched her face. 'Yeah, I would definitely like to see you try to do that, Rogue.'

"So, who is he?" her brother questioned. "Is it someone that I know?"

'Shit, a lot of people know him.'

"Is it someone from Dauntless? Or was Dante right that time: it is someone from Erudite?"

"Yes, he is from Dauntless," she sighed, finally speaking to him.

"Well judging from Luke's appearance…" Both adults stared at the baby, who was now in rapture with his own fingers. "…I can rule a lot of guys out," Rogue pointed out. He stared at his sister. "So, who's his pappy, girl? Who's the one that got you into this here trouble?" he inquired, using a mocking American Southern dialect.

"Okay, Foghorn Leghorn," she grumbled. She settled deeper into the sofa.

Rogue chuckled. "Come on, Nassy, tell me the truth. It's not like I am going to tell anybody. Right now, the only thing that I can do is draw conclusions and I don't want to," he reasoned.

'He's right. He's like The Mind, when it comes to keeping secrets.'

"Is it someone famous, here in Dauntless?" he asked. "Is this why you haven't said anything? Cause this is the only reason that I could understand, is your purpose for not saying anything. If it was a regular, Joe Schmoe, then you would've told us by now. So, this guy: is he a big-wig around here?"

She sighed and then stared at the ceiling. After a time passed, she said "Yes".

"Is he married? Is this why you haven't said anything?"

She looked aghast. "No!"

Rogue nodded. "Does he have a reputation around these parts?"

Once again, she said "Yes".

"So, if everybody knows him, does that mean he is well-liked by people?"

"No, he isn't. Maybe by a few people, but not all," she reported.

"Okay, so he is an asshole, got it. Now, how huge of an asshole is he?"

Nasira contemplated. "Well, he's an asshole to a certain demo around here. The older Dauntless people don't give a shit about him. But for the people around our age, or the ones who are the same age as us, he is an asshole that they wouldn't give a shit about if he took a slip into the Chasm."

Her brother sung a hymnal of contemplation. "I only know a few people who fit that bill. There's Carl, who works with Junior, Trigger and Samson, out of the Defense Department. He's a major asshole to everybody. Then there's Rafe McDaniels, your boss." He looked at his sister. "Please, don't tell me—

Nasira cut him off with the point of her index finger. "Don't you dare finish that statement."

He smiled. "I don't know, sis. Maybe one night, his face tattoo and that skinny-ass body that he has did something for you."

A mask of mortification took over her face while the meager contents of her stomach curdled.

"Maybe there was a bottle of Red Rose Tequila involved, along with a Prince mixtape and you two just…" He clapped his hands together. "Plus, the night sky could've added to the romance."

Nasira gave him a dead-panned glare. "Rogue?"

"Yup?"

"If you're going to continue to do the Devil's work by bringing up me and Rafe, then I'm going to need for you to leave my home," she told him.

Rogue broke out in a cackle, but quickly snapped his mouth shut, when he realized that his nephew was still sitting there. After his laughing fit was extinguished, he took a gander at his sister. "So, who-in the-hell is there left, besides one other person that I know?"

"Who's the—

"Other person?" he asked. Once she nodded her head, he answered. "Eric Coulter, the leader who…" He paused in his speech. He turned away from his sister. Rogue turned his attention towards his nephew. The boy was playing with the shoelaces of his sneakers, so he was unaware of his uncle's observations.

Nasira became a spectator for her brother's actions. Rogue stared at his nephew's mop of soft, sandy brown curls that rested on the top of his head. He took in the appearance of the chubby cheeks, the ears with subtle points on the outer curves, his nose and the shape of his eyes and color of his irises. Rogue even brushed the sides of Lucien's hair back, leaving the tufts of curly hair on top unscathed. Then took another look. The toddler, in reaction, glared at his uncle with annoyance blaring in his dark grey eyes.

"Oh. My. God," sighed Rogue. He turned his attention to his sister, with the expression of awe. "Nnnnnooooooo, you didn't!" he said in a shocked whisper.

His reaction caused her cheeks to burn. She pursed her lips and continued to view the spectacle.

"Eric Coulter?! Eric Coulter, of all people?! You slept with Eric?! Eric Coulter, a Dauntless leader, for flipping sake! How-in the-hell did _that shit_ happened?!" he inquired.

'Should I even tell him?'

"I mean, you and him… Y'all are two different peas in two different pods. Y'all don't even mix with the same social circles. So, how did the two of you even meet up?"

Nasira sighed. She kicked off her shoes and then stood up from the couch. She walked in the direction of the kitchen. "If I am going to tell you, then I might as well eat something because right now I am starving," she informed him, from over her left shoulder. She entered the kitchen. "Do you want anything to eat?" she asked him.

"Nah, I'm good," he called back. "Mama brought some leftovers and meals over here today. They're in the fridge," he informed her.

'YES!' she silently cheered as she made her way to the refrigerator. She scoured the inside of the fridge for food.

"So how did you guys hook up?" Rogue inquired from the living room.

"We managed to do that on the night of the Diplomatic Banquet," she confessed.

"Aaaahhh," he hummed as a case of enlightenment struck him. "So, he was the one that took you home on that night." There was a second of silence from him. "And then, he _took you_ ," he said with a case of mocking disgust.

Nasira looked away from the fridge to glare at her brother. She was greeted with a toothy smile from him. She flipped him off. Then she gone back to searching for food. "But we've known each other for a while, before that night." She spotted a clear plastic food container that held roasted chicken. Her stomach rumbled in reaction. 'Ah, this it'll do.' She turned her attention back to her brother. "A year ago, Eric asked me—

"Eric Coulter doesn't _ask_ people to do things for him. He _orders_ them to do it, for him," her brother corrected her.

Nasira chuckled. "You're right about that." She proceeded to fix herself and her son meals. "Eric needed my help to sabotage some girl's relationship with another dude, so he could swoop in and take her. It just so happens that this other guy is my co-worker."

"So you two decided to scheme together?" queried Rogue.

Rogue's thinly-veiled accusation caused her shame to rise. Her full cheeks burned with guilt. However, she knew that her younger brother was correct with his assessment. She did scheme like she was a villain from a movie. She peeked at her brother and nodded her head.

"So, if he was lusting after some other chick, then how-in the-hell did you two hook up? Don't you think it kind of defeat the purpose of his scheming?" he asked.

"I don't know why it happened, to be quite honest with you. I know from my end of why it happened. I was slightly tipsy. He's an attractive guy and I was horny at the time. But when it comes to Eric, I don't know why he decided to shoot for the stars—

"And for your uterus," Rogue interjected.

She snarled at him. She gone back to scooping up cold mashed potatoes into a plastic bowl. "I mean, I've seen the other chick and she's… Very beautiful. And I'm…ordin—

"Gorgeous," her brother added, cutting her off from making a self-assessment. The finality and seriousness in his tone made her glance at him. He held a look of seriousness in his eyes. "I've seen the other chick that you're talking about. Yeah, she's pretty, but she doesn't hold a candle to you. She can't even compete. She looks like any typical chick that lives in here, if we're being quite honest."

Nasira sighed. "You're just saying that because you're my brother."

"No, I'm not. Nassy, if you only knew just how much trouble me and the rest of us had gone through, when we were younger… And still do. If you paid any attention, when we were growing up and you didn't have your head in the clouds, then you would've noticed," he pointed out.

"I would've noticed what?" The topic of Eric was forgotten. She was intrigued with what he had to say.

"You would've noticed how all of the boys, and even the men, stared at you. Even now." He took a breath. "You remember how when Pops used to discipline all of us boys, when we would misbehave in school?"

She nodded.

"Yeah, some of those times were due to us beating some boys' asses because they were disrespecting you like you were some meat-trap or something. Pops knew, but he felt like we were still wrong. He said that just as long as they didn't try any unwanted, physical advances on you, then we should've let that shit slide. But back to what I was saying, you're gorgeous and better looking than most of the women that live in this faction. Well… except for the ones that I deal with because those ladies are…" His voice trailed off and then unleashed a wolf-whistle.

She laughed softly. "You're a trip. You say that I am pretty—

"I said that you were gorgeous, get it right."

She deeply exhaled and smiled. "Gorgeous, you said that I was gorgeous and that there are guys out there who wanted me."

"And they still do, baby or not."

"But they didn't make me feel pretty. There were girls—

"Who were jealous of you, which was why they teased you and made you feel like shit," her brother pointed out.

"But, there were _boys_ who also made me feel like shit as well," she pointed out.

"Well, I can't speak for all of them, but I can tell you that a lot of them were just frustrated that they couldn't get with you because if they did try…And we found out… There would've been problems."

The conversation was put on hold, so Nasira could finish preparing dinner, courtesy of a microwave. Once she was finished, she brought both meals over to the living room's sectional. She passed her brother a small spoon and the bowl of mashed potatoes. She gave him the order of feeding her son while she ate her meal.

"So… You were the one that caused that big fight?" he asked her after a time had passed.

She looked up from her plate. "What big fight? What are you talking about?"

"Ohhh, so you don't know about it? Oh, okay. From the way people were talking about here, I would've thought that they would've been gossiping about it in Amity as well."

"Rogue, why would the people of Amity prefer to gossip about a fight? It's the faction of peace," she pointed out before taking a mouthful of chicken.

"Well…" He gave his nephew a spoonful of mashed potatoes. "…I figured that it would've juicy enough for them, ever since the fight involved a _certain_ Dauntless leader."

She swung her attention back on her brother so fast that she was sure that she would physically feel it. 'Fight?! Eric fought Patrick?! Oh God, I hope Patrick is alright?' She swallowed the contents that were in her mouth. "Wha-What happened?" she asked, concern swirling around in those words.

"Eric ended up getting his ass whupped," he answered as he placed a hefty spoonful of food into Lucien's mouth. "Ever since you had mentioned your co-worker, I am going to assume that it was him that gave him the ass-whupping."

Her eyes grew wide while her jaw dropped.

"It's on tape, courtesy of the Control Room's surveillance cameras. I saw it. I'm pretty sure everybody in Dauntless has seen that tape. I still think that it was Four who sent it off. But, of course, he denies it."

"Rogue, what happened?" she said softly, still in awe.

"Okay… There's no sound, so I could only speculate what was said. On the tape, your co-worker goes into Eric's office to hand off something…"

'The new e-tablet,' she quietly answered.

"…He is talking to the secretary, when Eric's door opens and out he comes with the chick practically all over him. The guy must've called her name because she turned to him. She looked shocked. I thought her eyes were going to pop out of her head…"

Nasira wondered if Anissa's reaction was genuine or did she pretend.

"…The guy doesn't say anything else. He just leaves. The girl, of course, goes after him. Then the video cuts to the footage that is recording the hallway. The heartbroken dude walks down the hallway. The girl follows him and Eric follows her. The guy stops and proceeds to yell at the girl. Then Eric butts in, but he must've done it so he could brag because the next thing I know, guy jumps up into Eric's face. Eric still talks shit, probably reminding the dude that he is a leader and shit. Dude says something to Eric which causes Eric to hit him. So the fight is... ON! This dude is hitting Eric... And Eric is hitting him. They both are slamming each other into the walls. He—

"So, what is the girl doing?" Nasira asked.

"She walked off to the side because she wasn't in the frame anymore. She probably went back to Eric's office," informed Rogue. "Anyway…"

Nasira noticed that her brother became so enthralled with his storytelling that he neglected his responsibility of feeding his nephew. So, the young boy took the responsibility in his own hands. The mother watched her son clumsily scoop up food from his bowl and stuff it into his mouth. She smiled.

"…They are just beating the hell out of each other and then ol' boy broke out a roundhouse kick on Eric, like he was Jean-Claude Van Daame. Remember him? We used to watch his movies on Dad's old vid-con, when we were kids?" She nodded her head. "Eric's non-fighting ass had gone through the glass door of another office…"

Her eyes had gone even wider.

Rogue nodded his head while he gave her a smile. "Yup, through a plate-glass door, just like in the movies. Then the dude proceeded to beat the shit out of Eric as he laid on the floor. The security guards had come soon afterwards to take dude off to the holding cells."

At the mentioning of the holding cells, her heart began to pound. Her appetite disappeared just as her sense of fear filled up her belly. "What happened to my co-worker?"

"Him? According to Trigger, he was kept in the cells for a few weeks before being released. I know that Eric was sent to the infirmary, where he was treated for his injuries. I didn't work on him. My homegirl Charlene had the unfortunate honors. She said that he acted like an asshole throughout the whole time," her brother answered.

"Do you know where he's at now? Is he faction—?

"Factionless? No! He's not factionless. He's been transferred, I think. To the wall, where Dante is. I heard that ol' boy requested to be place at the wall because he couldn't stand the sight of the city anymore. I don't blame him," stated Rogue.

"So, he's not factionless? That's good." Then she thought about the situation. "I mean, how could he—? He had beaten up a leader, so how—

"Because that leader was too busy fucking his girlfriend, that's why. Nassy, just because a person is made into a leader, it doesn't mean that they're exempt for any wrong-doing. Sure, the guy didn't have to beat Eric up. But Eric had no right laying his hands on a subordinate first. Eric has a bigger responsibility than that guy. Here in Dauntless, we may always talk about being warriors and being brave and doing fun-dumb shit, but we do have morals here. Eric fucked up too. I guess that is why Max decided to give the guy a slap on the wrist."

"What about the girl?"

"Ever since she didn't raise her hands to anyone, she didn't face any punishments. But the tribe of the well-known meat-traps around here are besmirching her name and reputation like no other," he reported.

'Something tells me that she doesn't care about what others think about her. Especially if they are other women.'

"What about Eric? What happened to him? Did he get punished for his participation in the fight?" she asked.

"Not that I know of. I'm sure Max chewed his ass out for being so careless. I do know that he was the topic of discussion for many-many months after that day. I think that was enough of a punishment for him." He noticed the question lingering in his sister's eyes. "Imagine being a leader, who is known for being brave and slightly psychotic and having your ass kicked by an underling. It's like the biggest and scariest-looking bully being beaten up by the pipsqueak nerd, in the playground. Imagine how it would feel for the bully, days after? _Aaaannnndddd_ it doesn't help that he was walking around with cuts and a bruised up face, for weeks afterward. Eric was _definitely-definitely-definitely_ embarrassed."

Nasira had done just that: she allowed herself to imagine what it was like for Eric during those days. But she thought of those imagined scenarios with the mindset that was similar to Eric's. She knew a little bit about his character, thanks to the previous interactions with him. He was egotistical and he loved to push his level of authority onto others. Thanks to her initiation period, she also remembered the fringes of sadism that would show as he trained would-be Dauntless members.

'He must be fucking pissed and enraged. I bet, most of it is aimed at me.'

"Do you know if Eric is with that chick?" she asked.

"I see them together from time to time, when I hanging out in Club Inferno. I've seen them in the cafeteria once," he told her. He shrugged his shoulders. "So, I guess that they are."

A stream of babbling floated in between them and garnered their attentions. They looked at Lucien, whose face was covered in potato residue. He was waving his spoon around.

"Hey whatta know, he ate the entire bowl of mashed potatoes," Rogue explained as he peered into the bowl.

She giggled. "Yeah, he can't eat," she told him.

"I kind of figured that," he uttered. "He looks like he could eat. Now all he needs to do is lay off sucking his mama's titties and we'll…" He was subjected to a punch on his arm. "Ouch! You hit hard!"

"Good! Now, stop teasing me about the fact that I breastfeed," she explained.

Rogue did a quick sweeping glance at the living room. "Well," he sighed. "It's time for me to go now. I have business to attend to," he announced.

"What's her name?" she teased.

"I'm not telling you," he sang. He picked up his nephew and placed him next to his mother. "The last thing that I need is for Mama to find out about her and to do a background check on the girl, by the way of Atlas."

"It's usually Pollux that does her dirty work," Nasira corrected him. She peered at him as he stood up and took Lucien's eating utensils to the sink in the kitchen. He proceeded to wash the bowl and spoon. "You don't have to…" She glanced at her son who was gnawing on a sliver of roasted meat, from off of her plate. "…do that."

"It's no problem. Besides, you're tired and you've just traveled from faction-to-faction. Relax, sis." He approached her. He bent down and gave his nephew a kiss on the top of his head, which was followed by a kiss to his sister's cheek. He fixed the collar of his jacket. "Mama, before she left, told me to remind you to bring Luke by her department tomorrow."

"I remember. It's one of the first things she told me, when she called me this morning."

His left index finger jabbed the air as he recalled another thought. "She also told me to tell you to make sure that Luke wears an outfit that she bought him." He held a bewildered look on his face.

She giggled. "I know which outfit she wants him to wear."

"And she told me to remind you to wear something very pretty tomorrow because she is tired of seeing you in sweatpants, looking like you don't wash your ass."

"She…" Her left leg violently swung across her prone right leg and collided into Rogue's right calf, in the form of a kick. "… _did not_ say that, Rogue!"

*~oMLo~*

Something was off, according to Nasira as she stepped into the hallway. She just exited the bathroom with her son in her arms. She was about an inch away from the threshold, when she felt the energy in the hallway. There was a nameless, odorless and invisible energy floating around and it just made her perception feel… off-kilter. Something like…

"Rogue?!" she shouted into the hallway.

…Someone was in her apartment with them.

"Rrrrrrooooooovvvvvvveee," her son jovially babbled, attempting to mimic his mother's call. She did a quick glimpse at her boy. She gave his a kiss on the temple.

She clutched Lucien closer to her towel-clad chest. She walked to the exit of the hallway, which was the entrance to the living room. Her dark brown eyes scanned the spacious room in a grand sweep. Nothing was out-of-place and no one wasn't in the room.

'No one. But maybe Rogue came back to pick something up while I was in the shower. Maybe that's what I am feeling,' she silently concluded.

"Ma-Ma," Lucien called out. She peered down, into the face of her baby.

"Yes, my big boy?" she said sweetly into forehead. She planted a kiss there.

She listened to her son monologue as she turned back around and walked into the hallway. Both mother and son strolled into the bedroom that was facing the corridor and the living room. Once in the master bedroom, she deposited her son onto the center of her bed. She fetched nightclothes for the both of them. She prepared her son for bed and then threw on a flimsy tank top on. She decided to lull her son to sleep, a process that caused him to fuss.

"Yeah-yeah-yeah," she said softly to the cranky boy. "You don't like it when its bedtime, I know." She held onto him as he squirmed in her arms. Eventually, he found a comfortable position and relaxed. She gazed at him as he focused on the ceiling. "What are you staring at, Lucien?" she asked in a soft playful voice. He cooed in response. His full, pouty lips curved into a smile. "Are you smiling for your mommy?" A gentle chuckle fell from his mouth. An idea popped up into her mind. "Do you want mommy to sing you a song?" This time, his grey eyes darted over to her face and his left eyebrow flickered involuntarily.

This particular physical tick caused her to think of his father. It was something that his father's eyebrow would act out, whenever he was talking. She recalled that his eyebrow would twitched after the third or fourth word into every spoken statement. During their secret meetings, she would silently play a game with herself, in which she would count the twitches.

"Ugh," she scoffed. "You look more like your father, whenever you do that, Luke" she explained to the baby. "I don't mind that you look like him though. Just don't be a scheming, manipulative, over-achieving douche-bag like him. Please?"

"If I was a man that had a weak ego, I would've felt insulted by your statement."

Fortunately for Lucien, his mother had very strong reflexes and a tight grip on him. Out of instinct, she yelped and jolted out in fright. Her heart felt like it had missed a few beats and now was trying to catch up.

'Eric,' her brain whimpered out in fright.


	5. Chapter 5

***waves forlornly***

 **Hello again.**

 ***sighs* Okay, so here it is: The second part for the last chapter on this story.**

 **I would to give a big and heartfelt 'Thank you' to all of the people who have read my story. To the people who left reviews (I've read them all and I've saved them in my computer as well). To the people who have "favorite" this story as well.**

 **In this chapter, Eric is completely OOC and non-canon to both the stories and to the film adaptations.**

 **Warning:** **This story has been Rated M, for adult language, adult content and for very smutty Lemon (a person PM'ed me, asking me to write smutty lemon… so here it is!). So, please, No children under 16 years of age (I've being friggin' generous here) read this tale.**

 **Disclaimer:** **This chica right here *points to self* don't own anything except for the O/C's that are mention. All of the characters from the Divergent Series belongs to Veronica Roth.**

 **Once again… Thank you so much. Please Enjoy this chapter.**

 **Please rate and/or review.**

Her eyes did a frantic and clumsy survey of the other side of her bedroom. 'Chair… Hamper… Chest of drawers… Mirror… Closet—

As her brain whimpered the word, it appeared to have conjured him up. The white, French-styled, sliding door slid to the left. Behind the door was a void of darkness and a shape. Thoughts of a childhood Boogey-Man plagued her mind as she stared at the spectacle that was occurring. When she was a child, he had a fur and was ten feet tall. This particular Boogey-Man was a human male dressed in all-black clothes: a pair of fitted jeans, combat boots and a baggy hoodie with the hood covering his head. He stood in front of the rack of clothes with his left hand on the closet door's handle and his right hand holding onto the door frame.

Wide-eyed, she said "How long have you…? How long have you been in my closet?" Another inquiry popped up in her head. "How did you get into my apartment?"

There was a multi-second stream of silence. Then he spoke to her. "I know the key code to your door. I memorized it."

"How did you _memorized it_? I mean, when did you memorize my key code?"

"If you think very hard, I'm sure you will remember just how I remembered it," he taunted her.

"When did you come—?

"You were taking a bath, when I came in here," he reported.

There were footfalls against the bare wooden floorboards. Her eyes viewed his unveiling as he stepped out of the void of darkness and into the well-lit bedroom. Before she spied his appearance, she recalled the conversation that she had with Rogue, the recollection of the brawl that occurred in the leadership wing. She remembered the fact that Eric was bruised and bloodied by his girlfriend's ex-boyfriend. She didn't know what type of vision she was going to view.

He stepped into the bedroom and strolled up to the foot of her canopy bed. Out of instinct, she scooted a few inches closer to the head of the bed. His smug chuckle penetrated the atmosphere and spread out. His hands touched the fabric of his hood and he pushed at it, effectively revealing his face.

Nasira hoped that she kept the expression of surprise off of her face as she viewed his reveal. When she noticed the tightness around her eyelids, she knew that she failed. She was greeted by an image that she wasn't used to seeing from him. She expected to view a young man with a steely-eyed gaze, several cranium piercings and an outrageous haircut. What she received instead was a vision of a man. There was a steely-eyed gaze but there was a tinge of an unidentified emotion in his blue-grayish orbs. His jaw, chin, upper lip and cheeks were covered a layer of hair. In the fixed light, it appeared to be the color of auburn. The meticulous, highly-groomed and outrageous was no longer in place. In its place was a head full of hair that still kept an overall appearance of being well-kempt. Her line of sight also peeked at the several markings that marred his face: a horizontal scar that ran across the bridge of his nose, a thin one that hugged the curve outside of his left eye socket and the small percentage of scar tissue that his facial hair couldn't cover on his left cheek.

"Why…? Why…? Why are you here?" she questioned with a small voice and her eyes still heavily focused on his face's new features.

The faction leader doesn't respond to her inquiry. He, instead, grabbed a hold of the footboard and focused on the precious bundle that was laying across her lap.

Her eyes panned down on her baby, who was staring intently at the new man that appeared. 'Oh shit,' she silently sighed.

"He looks like me," she heard him breathe.

"Yes…Yes, he does," she muttered. She continued to eye the inquisitive little toddler as he stared at Eric. Silence clung to the bedroom as the trio stared at each other. The mother's skin prickled, as the tension mounted. Many notions and opinions ran through her mind during this time. 'What does he want from me? Does he want to take Lucien away from me? Does he plan on building a family with Anissa, by using my son? Why does he keep staring at Lucien like that? What the-fuck- does he want—?

"Ma-Ma!"

Her son's sharp cry snapped her out of her thoughts and skimmed down the thick tension that was in the bedroom. She glanced down at the boy. He was squirming on her lap and was attempting to wrestle out of her embrace. 'Oh!' Nasira assumed that Lucien wanted to sit up, so she released her maternal hold from around him. With a soundtrack of soft grunts, he sat up, on her lap. He rubbed at his eyes with his tiny, fat fists and then he peered at the man that stood at the foot of the board. A streak of babbles fell from his lips which was accompanied by an occasional giggle. The toddler pointed at Eric with his right index finger. He glanced at his mother from over his right shoulder. A stream of more talk flew out of his mouth.

A façade developed. With a smile on her face, she said "Yes, big boy…" She nodded her head. "… That's your daddy…" A pair of fat tears fell from her heavy eyelids and traveled down her cheeks. The façade suddenly cracked. "…That's your da-da," she informed the little boy.

A babbling Lucien turned back to his father, who still remained motionless and soundless at the foot of the bed. He spoke to Eric and he stopped. His hand dropped down to his side and then he deeply sighed. All of a sudden, he took off. With speed behind his crawling, he made his way over to the footboard.

"Lu—

She was about to fetch her son, but came to a halt when she caught the glower of blazing anger that burned in Eric's eyes. His jaw twitched in defiance. He gave her another second of intense glaring before he peeked down at the toddler, who now was sitting in front of him. The child's plump arms raised in the air as he talked to his father.

'Well, I'll be damned.'

She monitored Eric's reactions. He stared at the boy as if he was watching a new piece of machinery work for the first time. His fingers kept releasing and capturing the wood from its grasp.

"Ma-Ma," squealed Lucien.

She gazed at her baby, who was staring at her with an expression that read 'What's wrong with him?' She couldn't control the snicker that managed to escape from her mouth. Somehow, her son's gesture caused the tension that was stored in her, to splinter apart. Her eyes focused on Eric, who was intently staring at her. She felt the tension radiating off of him. She decided to smooth it out. "He wants you to pick him up, Eric" she told the would-be intruder.

She viewed the confused father as he stared down at his son. Lucien stared at him and raised his arms up again. She eyed Eric's hands. The fingers performed the same dance again with the wood.

'Come on, Eric, pick him up. Prove to me that you want him too.'

Lucien began to make sounds of fuss. She glanced at her son. He was beginning to make his frustration known with the erratic waving of his arms. She glanced at Eric's fingers which were squeezing the wood from the footboard.

'Come on, damn it. Pick him up. Pick him up. Pick him up. Pick him up. Pick him up. Pick him up. Pick him up. Pick him up. Pick him up. Pick him up. Pick him. Pick him up. Pick him up. Pick him up. Pick him up. Pick him up…'

Her dark brown eyes focused on the tall, silent man again. His eyes were glowering at the sign of their one-time union. His cheeks and forehead were developing a reddish tint to its skin. His nostrils were flaring.

'…Pick him up. Pick him up. Pick him up. Pick him up. Pick him up. Pick him up. Pick him up. Pick him up. Pick him up. Pick him up. Pick him up. Pick him up. Pick him up…'

Her eyes darted over to the toddler, who was now whimpering. His arms dropped down to their sides. He glanced over his right shoulder and stared at his mother. His full bottom lip was poked further out than his top lip. His dark grey eyes held a glossy sheen.

'Pick him up. Pick him— Got-damn it, Eric! Fucking damn you to hell.'

She forced a smile on her face and she stared at her son. "Come here, big boy," she softly sung to her son. She watched her son twist his upper body into her direction. His fat hands pressed into the down comforter. She saw his hands lift off of the comforter, and soon, the rest of his body.

'No—

Her chestnut-colored orbs stared at her son's pajama-clad legs kick at the air as he was carried through the tension-filled atmosphere. She stared at his tiny, fat bared feet press against the black, cotton sweatshirt. She saw a sleeved-up arm slipped underneath Lucien's diaper-clad booty. The sleeve rode up against the forearm and revealed a bit of a tattoo that was etched onto the flesh. A massive paw of a hand was pressed against the small back of the toddler, keeping him secured against the broad chest that belonged to the arms' owner. She stared at her son's small fat hands, hands she was sure was going to grow like his dad's. They were holding onto the fur-covered cheeks of the one man that managed to shock her once again.

Meanwhile the man was gazing down at his son with an unidentified glaze covering his eyes. She didn't have enough time to see them because the eyes' owner turned away from her. He turned his back to her and sat down on the edge of her bed.

"Ma-Ma! Ma-Ma! Ma-Ma!"

She watched Lucien's joyful face popped up, from over his father's left shoulder. His bright, dark grey eyes were focused on her. His lips unleashed an unrelenting stream of baby-talk. In between the millisecond-worth gaps between her son's words, she heard them. At first, she thought that it was a part of her imagination, maybe a case of wishful thinking. Then she eyed his back and shoulders and she saw it. She detected the rhythmic trembling that were dancing along the broad muscles and bone. He kept his voice low as he cried as to not alarm her son.

Their son. Lucien was their son now. Eric managed to do the one thing that she wanted: for him to prove to her that he wanted to be there.

'Well… I'll be damned.'

*~oMLo~*

"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHH! LOOK AT THE BABE-BEEEEE!"

The high-pitched squeal was followed by more squeals and then the sounds of a meager stampede of high heels against hardwood floor.

Nasira was smart enough to stand out of the way. She watched the small group of women ignore her as they made their way over to her mother and the main attraction. The women circled around Mrs. Grant as she displayed her grandson like he was a prized-winning puppy at a dog show. The women all tried to gain her son's attention. The young mom was pleased to see that the attention did not frighten her son.

"Ooh, what does his shirt say?" one of the secretaries asked.

"It says… OH! It says, 'Cute little stinker'!"

There was a symphony of laughter that came from the women. Nasira knew that her mother was feeling pleased with the choice of outfit. Mrs. Grant gifted her daughter with the outfit for Lucien. The outfit consisted of a black layette with a white front. On the back of the layette, there was a stubby tail and a white stripe going down the middle. On the front of the jumper, there were the words 'Cute little stinker'. The layette came with a black, skullcap that held a pair of animal ears.

Nasira and Lucien arrived to her mother's department in The Mind, which was on the eighteenth floor of the building. They arrived an hour and a half ago and they have been on the move since then. Her mom plucked the baby from his mother's arms and proceeded to show damn near everybody the baby. First, they visited every one of her mother's colleagues, fellow diplomats and their personal assistants. Then, they were introduced to every passerby that was in the corridors, including the maintenance crew. Now, they were in the employee lounge room, where they met up with the tribe of squealers.

As she watched the women hover, she bit down the urge to find an available chair and sit down, so she could take a nap. Nasira was tired and would do anything for a simple fifteen-minute nap at the moment. She did not get much sleep last night and it had nothing to do with Lucien. It had everything to do with his older, hairier doppelganger. After witnessing his moment of vulnerability, he sat there with their son in his arms. He didn't say anything to her or to their boy. He just stared at him. Lucien didn't mind. In fact, after a bit of persuasion, the child became comfortable in his father's arms and he fell asleep. He wrapped his tiny arms around his father's thick neck and rested his head on his left shoulder. She didn't interfere with the bonding moment until Eric asked for her help: he didn't know where to place Lucien. She told him to place the baby on the bed.

Once Lucien was safely tucked away underneath the blanket and barricaded with numerous pillows, Daddy turned his malevolent-hinged glare towards Mommy. A simple, 'We need to have a chat' was said and he sauntered out of the bedroom. Just like that, the 'Eric' that she knew had returned and was now in her home. She followed the leader into the living room, where he stood in front of her windows. She sat on the sectional and waited for him to make the initiative, when it came to the conversation. What followed was a conversation that was pregnant with terse whispers, thinly-veiled dislike towards each other and fair-to-unfair substantiated accusations.

Eric accused her of maliciously hiding the information about her pregnancy from him. Nasira accused him of being a violent being that was capable of killing her and their unborn son. He blatantly denied that accusation. He accused her of going to try to 'poison's their son's mind' with false stories about him, as the child grew up. She damned near shrieked out her denial, at him. Then, she told him that she didn't want his girlfriend around their son. It was her first moment of acknowledging his paternity. He just glowered at her. He accused her of trying to keep him away from being a father to their son. She didn't deny that accusation because it was true. But, when he accused her of hiding the boy's paternity because she was ashamed of his station in life, ever since she was a Dauntless-born, who was a part of a legacy. She vehemently denied it. At that moment, she realized that it was the second time that she had seen his vulnerability.

Eric left her apartment, shortly afterwards. But not before he made the promise of visiting her apartment on the next day. They didn't even reach a level of agreement and complicity. When she had gone to bed that night, she realized that the 'next day' was already there.

"Nassy! Let's go!"

"Hmmm?" Nasira sleepily hummed.

"Let's go up to the leadership wing and introduce Max to Bunchie!" her mother eagerly suggested.

The statement was like a shot of adrenaline for the young mother. Nasira's sense of fatigue was gone and she was filled with energy. Fear and anxiety would do that a person.

'Wait—What?! No. No. No…'

"Um Mommy, shouldn't we…? Shouldn't we leave Max alone?!" she suggested as she followed her mother.

"Max has asked me about the baby several times and now he has the opportunity to meet him—

"But, he may be in a meeting or—

"He is not in a meeting right now. He's in his office, having his lunch," the Grant matriarch reported.

"But he might want to enjoy his lunch break alone and not being bothered by a crazy lady with an adorable baby!" reasoned Nasira.

"So this shouldn't take long. Hurry up!" Mrs. Grant poked at the button, summoning the elevator.

'Damn this woman!' she silently cursed. 'Please Max, please don't be in your office.'

The elevator arrived. Mrs. Grant and Lucien entered the carriage first. Nasira thought about making a run for it, but she knew that she wouldn't get too far. For one, she was wearing a floor-length halter dress and sandals. Plus there was the diaper bag. And two, she was sure that her mother would've summoned a Dauntless patrolman to zap her with his taser until she was rendered immobile. Regrettably, she hopped on the elevator's carriage and then watched the doors closed.

"Besides, I called Max this morning and he is expecting our visit! He's excited to meet Bunchie…" She held Lucien out, in front of her. She eyed the boy's smiling face. "…He's excited to meet you, Bunchie! Yes, he is!" The elevator was filled with the baby's giggles.

Her mother continued to make baby-talk while her son continued to coo, as well as, laugh. The trio stepped off of the elevator onto the eighth floor. Like before, Nasira followed her mother as the older woman disregarded the front desk receptionist and continued her traveling. 'Please, don't be there, Max' she silently wished. 'Please Max, please let your ass be in Erudite somewhere, talking about landmines or potholes or ostriches or lakes and rivers or—

"Is this him?! Is this the ladies' man that I've been hearing about?!" she heard Max's exuberant baritone announce.

'FFFFFFFuc-Uck!' She briefly grimaced after hearing Max's jovial voice. She quickly fixed her face and then added a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

Max, the Dauntless leader of all leaders, was standing in the threshold of the entrance to his office. He held a look and was in a mood that would've been considered rare emotion, by any other Dauntless member. But this man was her godfather and a close family friend, so it wasn't an odd occurrence. He held a wide smile on his face while his arms were outstretched. The leader's aura was bleeding happiness.

"Is this him?! Is this Luke?!" he said cheerily. His eyes were focused on the squealing, happy toddler that was returning the stare.

"This is my Bunchie," her mother laughed with delight. The older Grant handed her grandson off to the leader. Max gladly accepted the baby. "Now, watch out, he's heavy—

"Heavy? Yes! Yes, he is!" Max agreed. "But that means that he is going to be big and strong…"

'Like his father,' Nasira thought.

"…I can tell he is gonna be one of the baddest Dauntless men in history…" At this moment, Lucien cooed and smiled a wide grin. "Yes, you're gonna be one tough son-of a-gun. Yes, you are, my dude!" Then suddenly the baby's face grimaced. "Uh-oh, what's wrong, dude?"

"Uh-oh," her mother groaned while eying the child.

"He's probably needs a changing," Nasira informed the both of them. "I know that he is not hungry or sleepy." She walked up to Max and Lucien. The leader handed the baby to her.

"Hey Nassy, I didn't see you there," he told her, teasing her.

She laughed. "Don't feel bad, I'm used to it. I've been invisible since we arrived," she reported. She asked the leader if there was a nearby bathroom or a private room that she could use. He informed of an unoccupied office-suite that was across the hallway from his office. She thanked him and informed her mother that she would try to make the visit short. She left her mother conversing with the leader.

Upon entering the office, she took a look around. The office was bare of any personal effects. There was a simple wooden desk, rolling chair and a desktop computer set. On the other side of the room, there was two leather chairs and a small coffee table. The floor was covered with a thin, cheap brown carpet. The curtains were made from similar fabric. 'I guess it's the leader who adds the stylish furniture.' She turned to the door and locked it. She strolled over to the desk and stood in front of it. She recalled the time when she stood in front of Eric's desk, back when she was still pregnant.

"Alright, big boy," she stared down at her son. "Let's get that dirty diaper off of you." She placed the toddler on top of the desk. The diaper bag was sat next to him. Immediately, he started to paw at the bag's fastenings. She chuckled because she knew that he would do it. "What is it with you and the fact that you hate sitting in a dirty diaper?" she said to her son.

The mother quickly changed her son's diaper and tossed the soiled one in the trash can that was next to the desk. She redressed the boy and then picked him up. His head automatically landed on her right shoulder. His hand began to paw at her left breast.

"Someone's getting sleepy," she gently teased. He rhythmically patted at her breasts. "Yup, you're getting sleepy."

The sound of the doorknob turning penetrated the room. Her nerves grew on edge. She quickly spun around to view the intruder. A familiar sight entered the room. She deeply exhaled and immediately relaxed.

"What are you doing here?" he questioned.

She noted the authoritative tone in his voice. 'He must be in his work mode,' she figured. "I just finished changing your son's diaper and now he is on his way to going to sleep." She stared at Eric as he made his way over to where she was standing. His eyes were focused on their son as he walked over. Nasira stared at the sign of their one-time experience. Lucien's eyelids were fluttering, a sign that he was fighting sleep.

"Why are you up here in the leadership wings?" asked Eric.

She glanced at him. "My mom wanted to show Lucien off to her co-workers. Then she decided to bring him to see Max—

"Max?"

Her eyes snapped back to his face once she heard the tone in his voice. It was caked with suspicion and distrust. She did a curt head nod. "Yes, _that Max_."

"Why?" he asked with a tightened jaw.

"Because Max is a close friend to my family. In fact, _he is my godfather_ ," she informed him. She detected the glint fade out of his eyes. "Why? What's up with that 'third degree'?"

"It wasn't a 'third degree'. I just wanted to know why you were up here," he told her.

"What other…" Then she realized his assumption. "… _Ohhh,_ now I get it."

"Get, what?"

A smile graced her lips. "You assumed—

"I don't assume—

"You assumed that my mom and I had come up here to tell your superior officer that you knocked me up," she informed him.

"No. I didn't," he calmly protested.

She laughed. "Ssssuuuuurrrrreeeee, you didn't" she drawn out.

Both parents turned their heads towards the door, when they heard sounds of the knob turning. Eric performed a spirited sprint across the office to the other side, to the leather chairs and the small wooden coffee table.

It was her mother. "Nassy, did my little Bunch—Oh! Hello, Eric!"

"Good afternoon, ma'am" she heard Eric greet her mother. "How are you on this…?"

At this point, Lucien's tiny hand gave his mom a firm slap against her collarbone. 'You're really fighting this sleep thing.' She patted his back in a soothing manner. She re-joined the conversation.

"Eric, have you met my Bunchie yet?" her mother stated.

Nasira's eyes widened in surprised. She eyed her mother and then Eric. He sat in the brown leather chair, giving her mother a clueless look.

"No. No. No, I haven't" he answered her.

Mrs. Grant approached Nasira. "Nassy, let Eric hold onto Bunchie, so I could take…"

Both Eric and Nasira stared at her mother. Eric even shot out of his chair. Both parents protested to the idea.

"Mom, I don't think…"

"No Mrs. Grant, I don't think…"

The matriarch removed Lucien from her daughter's embrace. The baby made a brief fuss, but calmed down as soon as he was placed in the leader's strong arms.

"Now see…" Mrs. Grant gushed. "…He knows that he is in safe hands!" She continued to stare at her grandson and the young leader. She produced her cell phone from her blazer's pocket. She held the phone's camera up. "Alright-y… Look at me... Say 'cheese'!" Instead of smiling, Eric remained stoic and tight-lipped. Mrs. Grant snapped the photo, which was followed by several more in succession. She glared at the two. She slipped her phone back into her blazer. "So…" She started out saying. She crossed her arms over her chest. "How does it feel to be a 'daddy', Daddy?" Mrs. Grant asked him.

'Wha-What?!' Nasira gazed over at her mother with her eyes bulging.

Mrs. Grant glanced at both parents and then smiled. "What? You guys thought that I didn't know?" She glimpsed again. " _You actually believed_ that I didn't know?!" she said with amusement. She laughed. She looked straight at her daughter. " _I've always known_! I've known ever since the day you told me that you were pregnant. I should've known earlier than that, if I would've remembered that night y'all danced. You know, on the night of the Diplomatic Banquet? Y'all chemistry was very…heated."

"Chemistry, what chem—?

"Chemistry?" her mother asked with a lift of eyebrow. "You two had plenty of chemistry on that night. To the untrained eye, people would've assumed that it was you and Malachi. But me?" She tapped her chest. "I knew. I knew when I saw y'all two dance to my song. And then when he offered to take you home, I should've known that you two would've ended up screwing like rabbits."

She grimaced. She ran her hand over her face. "Mmmmmoooooooommmmmm," she groaned.

"And besides, my Bunchie looks just like Eric," Mrs. Grant told her. She walked over to Eric and plucked the baby from his arms. "Now what I am trying to understand is why there wasn't a formal announcement made and why he wasn't the one holding your leg during Bunchie's birth?" This time, she glowered at Nasira.

Eric decided to speak. "I didn't know about Lucien's birth until last night. But I did have my instincts. I asked her and she said that he belonged to someone else."

Mrs. Grant did not say anything. She just glared at Nasira, which caused the daughter's skin to shiver. For the younger Grant woman, she felt like she was a child again and she was being scolded. After a tense moment, the older woman stared at Eric.

"Now that you know about Lucien, what are your plans?" her mom asked.

"I am going to be a dad. No one is going to stop me from doing so," he promised the both of them.

Mrs. Grant walked over to Eric and handed the baby to Eric. Softly, she said, "Hold him. The more you touch him, the more y'all bond". She walked to the center of the room. "So, someone mentioned meeting up last night, so y'all did manage to talk?" She intensified the level of eye contact between the both of them. "You did _just talk_ , right? I mean, I love my Bunchie to death, but I don't think he needs a brother—

"We just talked, ma'am" Eric filled her in.

"It's more like he nagged me and got me angry," added Nasira.

Her mother glared at her. "Right now, I am so pissed off at you that I don't care," her mom told her.

'Well… Damn.'

Mrs. Grant looked at Eric. "Will my grandson bear your name?"

"Yes," he stated. The conviction in his voice caused a lump to form in her throat.

"We've…" Both pairs of eyes stared at her. "…decided to keep things quiet."

Her mother threw a look of mortification on her face. "Why?!" She pointed to Eric. "He's a got-damned leader, for flipping sake! Bunchie is his firstborn! It should be a momentous occasion!"

"I'll explain later, mom" she harshly whispered.

"But—

"I'll explain later!" she snapped, letting the older woman know that she would not change her mind.

Her mother gave her pointed look. "Later." She glanced at Eric. "Eric, sweetie, it was nice to see you again." She walked up to her grandson and gave him a kiss. She stepped away. She glanced, as well as, pointed at both parents. "I'll leave y'all alone, so you can talk. I have to go back to work." After she stated so, she sauntered out of the office.

Nasira let out a rough exhalation as she dropped back against the edge of the desk. Immense relief flooded her core.

"You know that your mom was right. You know this."

She glowered at her son's father. He gingerly sat back down in the chair. He relaxed his large form and helped his son spread out his coiled up limbs. He placed a protective hand over his son's bottom. The sight of the father and son caused Nasira to lose control of her breathing. Her lungs felt like ten-pound weights were inside of her chest. Her cheeks blushed to the point where she experienced buzzing underneath her skin.

Nasira saw his lips move. "What did you say?"

Eric took a deep swallow. She saw his tattoos shake against the movement. He eyed her. "I said, why do you want no one to know about me being Lucien's father? And I want to know the truth."

'Shit.' Nasira did a hard swallow. She lifted her chin in defiance. "I told you the truth already."

Eric lip curled into a snarl. "Bullshit." He rested the back of his head against the chair's back. "I'm waiting for an explanation."

"Don't you have to return to work?" she countered.

"I am on my lunch break. I have another hour to hang out," he informed her. He rubbed their son's back. "I'm waiting."

'Really? You're waiting? Well… Fuck it!'

She committed an act of a nervous tick, which was licking her lips. Then she spoke. "I don't like certain elements that you allow yourself to be surrounded by." She pressed further. "I don't want our son around them."

"And who would these elements be?" he said, quizzically.

"Think. Use those Erudite genes of yours, Eric?"

Silence permeated the office while Eric tossed several possibilities in his mind. An occasional wave of Lucien's loud snoring passed through.

"OH! OH! HO-HO-HO-HO-HO!" he chuckled after a while. "Are you serious?!" He lifted his head up and glared at her. "Anissa? Is that who you are referring, my girlfriend?"

She didn't like his reaction. She found it to be insulting. "Yes, she is the one that I am talking about."

"Anissa is harmless," he pointed out.

"Said the person who spent over three years being strung along by her," she snapped. She viewed the sense of joy leave his face. It was replaced by a sheer anger. She knew that he was angry, but she didn't care. "If you haven't notice, your girl's moral meter is fucking faulty. Plus she gives off the vibe that she must be the top priority in your life or else she won't be happy. I won't trust her around our son."

"So what are you saying?" growled Eric. "One day that woman will be my wife."

"I don't give a shit if you end up marrying her, Eric! I don't want him around her. I'm not saying that I don't want you to be his father. I do want you…To be there for him. But I don't her _trust her_. But that woman has your nose so-fucking-wide open that I am worried for you!"

'THERE! I SAID IT!'

Eric just gave her a glare while his jaw twitched. His blue eyes zeroed in on her face. Her face grew hot, from being under his hostile inspection. His eyes drifted down to the top of the costumed baby. "I will let nobody hurt him… Including, her."

Nasira leaned against the desk, she glared at Eric. "If Lucien has even one bruise or one scratch on him… And I hear news that that bitch has been around him… I will rip her throat out!"

"If that is the case, then she will be dead and in the bottom of the Chasm before that thought crosses your mind," he promised.

She should've felt comfort, or even relief, at hearing his promise. But she didn't believe it. Not when his eyes didn't have the glow of conviction.

*~oMLo~*

"It is 'later' now. I want an explanation."

Nasira leaned up against the doorframe. "Hi, Mom. Would you like to come—?

"Of course, I would like to come inside of your home!"

The daughter stepped to the side and allowed her mother into the apartment. Once inside, her mom's old training kicked in and her eyes deftly scanned the room. Her eyes landed on the jubilant baby who was sitting in his walker.

"Bunchie!" she squealed. She galloped over to the baby. Her kitten heels tapped against the polished, hardwood floor. Once she gathered the body in her arms, she asked Nasira about dinner plans.

"I am about to make steak and potatoes. Would you like to join me for dinner?"

"It depends on two things: what kind of wine do you have and how are you making that steak?"

"I have both red wine and white wine in the fridge. And I am using the oven's broiler to make the steak," she informed her mom as she marinated the raw meat.

"Medium rare?" her mom asked with a knowing glint in her brown eyes.

"It's the only way," she said with a smile. The woman laughed.

"Okay, so spill it, young lady" her mother demanded, once the laughter simmered down.

"You don't want to wait un—

"Nasira Hippolyta Grant, if you don't tell me this—You're already treading on thin ice with me," her mother warned her.

Nasira responded with a pout.

"And the pouting won't work with me," her mother reported. "I may be old and a bit broken from my cancer fight, but I will kick your ass!"

The younger Grant laughed, which led to her son mimicking her.

"Alright-alright, now spill it."

So, Nasira did. She told her mother about her interaction with Eric, in the unclaimed office, after she left. She gave a description of Anissa and Patrick's old relationship. She withheld information about her plan with Eric. Her mother would've definitely taken her over her aging knee.

"So let me get this straight: you think that Eric is a simp?" her mother uttered before taken a sip of her wine. She caught the look of surprise on her daughter's face. "Don't look at me like that! You think that your generation had come up with that word? Let me tell y'all something: y'all didn't. 'Simp' has been around for centuries."

"Thanks for the history lesson, Mom" she said with a smile.

In retaliation, Mrs. Grant tossed her balled up napkin at her daughter. "Now back to what I was saying. You believe that our leader Eric Coulter is a simp for a woman and you think that this woman is a psycho?"

Nasira picked up her glass of water. "It's more like sociopath. Or borderline personality disorder, at least," she corrected her mother before drinking.

"I see someone has been talking to Malachi," her mother said with an amused smile.

"Actually, I always believed this about her. Malachi just provided me with the correct lingo."

"And you think this girl is capable of hurting Bunchie?"

"No doubt about it," she told her mom.

"Do you really believe that Eric would allow for that to happen?"

"That's the thing: I believe he wouldn't tell me. He'll lie and say that Lucien fell or he accidentally bump his head. Or he would ignore the 'red flags'. I don't want to take any chances."

"Now don't believe that I am trying to invalidate your feelings…"

'Damn it.' Nasira rolled her eyes and sighed.

"… But I am finding it hard to believe that our Dauntless leader would fall so easily for a woman. We're the faction of the brave. I've known this man since he was a scrawny boy that just escaped a life of neglect. Eric had gone through Hell during his initiation process. He managed to conquer his fears. He's…" Mrs. Grant shook her head. "I just can't see it for him. I'm sorry." Her mother severed a piece of charred meat with her knife. "Dauntless men…" She shook her head. "…can act like cavemen and like ladies' men. But as easily—

"And? Ma, please spare me the…" Nasira put an arch in her back so that her chest puffed out. Her arms had gone akimbo. In a deep, mockingly masculine voice, she said "Dauntless men are brave and fearless and we don't have feelings!" She returned to her normal voice. "Because it's a pack of lies. There's kids fighting to disregard their natural instincts and feelings because they don't want to be thrown out to the wild. Then you have the older Dauntless men. You know, the ones that hang out at The Snake Eyes Pub, drinking and reminiscing about the 'good ol' days', when they were able to beat the hell out of their families without prying eyes." She leaned against the table. "Just because we're taught to conquer our fears and face them head on, it doesn't mean that we won't gather weaknesses along the way. It's why you have a bunch of young kids trying to avoid making families." She leaned back in her chair. "Back when Eric was a skinny kid and was living in Erudite, he knew his girlfriend. They have a strong connection."

Mrs. Grant leaned back in her seat. She held her glass of wine. She was silent as she contemplated. "What's her name?" she said, after her moment.

"Her name is Anissa Howard," Nasira confessed. "And she works in the infirmary."

"Alright," the Grant matriarch murmured. "I'll have Atlas check her out, ever since she originally comes from Erudite. Plus he has access to the Bureau of Records."

"I thought Pollux do all of your dirty work for you."

"He does, but he's on vacation right now…" Her eyes drifted off to the space that was behind her daughter. "…Ummm, honey?"

"Yes?" Nasira hummed as she gathered some pieces of baked potato on her fork.

"I think Bunchie is making in his diaper," her mother informed her. She pointed over in the direction.

Nasira looked at her son. He sat in his rolling walker, several feet away. He was staring at the island counter. The mom took note of the bright pink tint that covered his face, as well as the look of deep concentration.

'Yup, he's pooping.' She turned to her mother. "Say grandma, wo—

Mrs. Grant raised her hands in mock surrender. "Us grandmas have special privileges now. We don't change dirty nappies. And judging by the look on his face, he is dropping a log in his underpants."

*~oMLo~*

Mrs. Grant made her departure shortly thereafter, which left Nasira and Lucien alone. The young mother and baby spent the remainder of the early evening, playing. Nasira decided to help her son practice his walking skills. She stood behind her son. She allowed his tiny hands to hold onto her fingers as they made steps around the living room. She supplied each of his efforts with encouraging words. As they walked around the back of the sectional, the front door suddenly opened.

'What-the-fuc—

Nasira's natural instincts kicked in before she could finish her thought. She quickly snatched up her toddler son and gathered him into her arms. The sudden action frightened her son and soon the living room was covered in cries. She didn't noticed her son's distressed state because she wanted to get as far away from the front door as quickly as she could. She ran across the living room to where the hallway's entrance was located. She stared at the front door. Her eyesight was flooded with the sight of her interloper, which was a familiar sight.

"What-the-fuck, Eric?!" she screamed as she approached him. Her shout managed to cut through Lucien's wails.

There, in her living room and a few feet in front of the door, stood Eric. He held an expression of confusion on his face. "What are you—?

"You just scared the hell outta me by barging in here like that!" she screamed at him.

"You should've known…" he pointed out.

"I should've known?! The only person…"

"…that it was me! Who else has the key code to your damn door besides me?!" he shouted.

"… The only damn person who should have this code is me because this is my home!"

"He is my son too!" he screamed at her.

"I know that, but it does not give you the right to enter my home whenever-the-fuck you feel like it!" she further explained, but in lower volume.

"Watch who you're talking to. If you haven't notice, I am a leader and you're superior officer," he warned her.

"I don't give a shit, if you're a leader! Your title don't mean anything to me…"

Suddenly Eric and his thunderous glare were a few inches in front of her face. Most would've been intimidated and would've backed down. Nasira didn't even flinch.

"…the moment you enter my home! Your role as Dauntless leader don't mean shit to him!" She bounced Lucien in her arms, illustrating her point.

Eric's eyes did a subtle twitch in their sockets. He stared at their crying son. At that moment, the crying babe reached out for him and swayed his body in his direction. The fire that was his anger extinguished in his eyes. He made a grab for his son. Nasira was tempted to pull away, but she knew that her action would've added more tension. She allowed Eric to handle their son. Once the hand-off was committed, she had taken a few steps away.

Nasira observed the father and son. More importantly, she wanted to see how Eric would react to Lucien's crying. She knew that Eric would have to interact with a crying Lucien, in the future. He needed to build up his patience and the tolerance for the boy's streak of crying. She watched their son clutch onto his father's hoodie with his fat little hands as he continued to cry. His cherubic face was stained with well-spent tears and redness from being unnecessarily stressed out. His dark gray eyes were focused on his face as if he was pleading with him.

The scene caused Nasira's heart to pound and for her gut to twist around with anxiety. Her maternal instinct of plucking the crying child away and consoling him was going into overdrive. It was to the point, where her legs were slightly trembling. They were ready to move, if need be. 'No. No. No. Allow Eric to start being a dad,' her conscience told her. 'If he needs help because he feels overwhelmed, then help him… By giving him suggestions. But he got to do this on his own.' Her line of sight flashed over the father's face. "He's scared…" Eric's cerulean orbs landed on her. "When I picked him up, I managed to scare him. So, you need to calm him down," she informed him.

The new father had gifted the mother with a sight that she was sure no one had seen before: an inept Eric. For Nasira, it was obvious that he didn't have any history of interactions with kids. A level of frantic was running off of him like it was static energy. His eyes also held a fringe of 'scared shitless'.

"He is scared from when I had picked him up," she reiterated. "So, in order for you to calm him down, you'll need to tell him that everything is fine and you also need to show him that everything is alright. Just…" She held her right hand out, in front of her with her palm facing Eric. "…rub his back…." She proceeded to use that hand to make invisible circles in the air. "…and also tell him, in a nice voice that everything is going to be fine. He'll calm down."

The father took a glimpse at his son. "Okay," he muttered. The hand that held him up to his chest, brought the baby closer to him. His other hand proceeded to massage Lucien's back in a slow, circular motion. His lips pressed into the baby's hairline and he began to utter soft statements. The child, in return, pressed the left side of his face against the front of Eric's apparel. The volume in his hysterical crying began to lower. It was working.

Nasira surveyed the scene for another minute. Once she heard Lucien's cries go from frantic and aggressive to whimpers, she felt confident enough to leave the duo alone. She had to complete another chore before she would send the baby to sleep. "I'll be back," she announced, using a softer and less hostile tone towards Eric.

His head snapped up and he glared at her. "Where are you going?" She detected his uncertainty in his voice.

The fact that Eric was revealing all of these acts of vulnerability to her, made her spirit glow, unexpectedly. She gave him a reassuring smile. "I'll be back. I have to give Luke his bath. I have to change my clothes and get his bath supplies. I won't be long. I promise." She extended her left hand in front of her, with her fingertips pointed to the couch. "You can have a seat, if you want to. You've probably been on your feet all day, I'm sure."

Eric gave her a simple head nod, as if it was granting her permission to leave the living room. She gave the father and son one last glance before traveling out of the room. She traveled to her bedroom first, where she slipped out of the ankle-length, peach-colored dress that she was wearing. She threw on a pair of black, spandex pants and a frumpy tee-shirt. Then she traveled to the bathroom to gather up the baby's toiletries.

When she arrived back to the living room, thirteen minutes later, she was welcomed by a serene sight. Eric was relaxed and lounging on her couch. Lucien was sitting on lap and was facing him. On the baby's face was a wide smile that highlighted the four incisors that were in his mouth. There were shrieks of jubilance along with rounds of laughter coming from the ten-month old. He was eyeing his father's hands, which were playing with the drawstring that was attached to the hood of his sweatshirt. Her eyes caught the sight of a thin smile on Eric's face. She sensed that the jovial gesture wasn't a pure one. He was holding back. But it was a smile nevertheless.

'There's hope, Nassy. Just have some hope,' her conscience reminded her. Nasira performed her own little smile before she turned away and strolled into the kitchen. Then she started to use the sink in preparation for Lucien's bath.

*~oMLo~*

"…about his birth," Eric stated after her laughter died down.

With a smile still etched on her face and a glow still tattooed on her skin, she proceeded to give her account about their son's birthday. "It was quick…" she said, with remnants of her laughter still in her voice. She tucked her feet underneath her bottom and sat on the couch in a new pose. "…It wasn't like anything that you'll see in those old-timey films. On the day that he was born, I had spent the whole day teaching. I had four classes on that day, I think. I remember that my back was hurting me all day. I thought that I was just having back pains like I always had, around that time. It was really my contractions. Thank God, I was able to drive home because as soon as I stepped out of my jeep, my water broke…" She laughed as she remembered fondly of that day. "It really didn't take long. I arrived home a little bit after seven o' clock that evening. Right before sundown, I remember. He was born approximately at 9:08 that night. It felt like I did three pushes and he came out." She looked at her son, who was asleep on his father's chest. "When he was born, it was the scariest moment of my life," she confessed.

"Why? What happened?" he asked, with unbridled concern lace in his voice.

She stared at the tall and usually intimidating man that laid on her chaise lounge. She observed the pair of blue eyes and saw it. 'Yup, there it is' she silently hummed. Despite the genuine concern swirling in his orbs, she felt intimidated. She stared down at their sleeping son. "It was scary because I realized that I was going to be responsible for another human being. That everything that he will do, in his life, will be tied to me and how I raise him. I was going to be the first woman in his life and I was going to be his first example of how to treat a woman. So, I knew that I had my work cut out for me…" She waved her hand in the air. "…Then I completely forgot about all of that, when my midwife placed his naked, crying self on me…With his little, lop-sided head."

"Lop-sided head?"

She eyed the quizzical expression on his face. She chuckled. In the midst of her laughter, she unintentionally caressed his forehead, before her hand fell back into her lap. "It…It was lop-sided because when he… _Passed through_ , his head had to conform to the shape of my cervix," she explained to the best of her capabilities. She viewed his face and still saw the expression on his face. She giggled. "Babies are very pliable when they're born. Their bodies are very flexible, in order to survive in the womb and to be born. He was a big baby too, so I really had to work."

"How—?"

"How much did he weigh, when he was born?" she queried, interrupting him. "He was ten pounds and nine ounces, when he was born…" She viewed the look of awe attach itself on Lucien's father's face. "…and he wasn't the biggest baby that was born in Amity. That honor goes to a thirteen-pound kid, who was born fourteen years ago. I did eventually meet that kid and he was _hhhhhuuuuggggeeeee_!" She tilted her head. "When it comes to Luke, I wasn't surprised that he was a big baby, after all…"

Nasira stared at her fellow couch hoarder, who sat on her left side. He was reclining on the chaise lounge section, with a large decorative pillow propped up against his head. He was stripped down to his baggy sweatpants that were soiled with spots of water. His sweatshirt, socks and shoes were in the process of air-drying, due to being soaked with bathwater. She also had to change again due to being excessively splash by water and soap suds.

"…his daddy isn't a small man himself."

Eric's eyes focused on her, mischief in his orbs. A small smile appeared. "In more ways than one," he quipped.

She rolled her eyes and chuckled. "You know what…" She wanted to throw a pillow at him, but Lucien was in the way. So, she flipped him off. A throaty chuckle filled the room.

A wave of silence flooded the living room. During this time, both parents listened to their son's soft snoring. Nasira stretched her body on the couch and she rolled onto her stomach. Her head was a few inches away from Eric's resting one. A strong sense of relaxation flooded her bones, a feat that she believed would've never happen with Eric in the same vicinity. The gravity of the situation did not go unnoticed by Nasira. But she quickly came up with an answer for it. 'It was the crying session that done it.'

"Why did you name him after me?" questioned Eric, disrupting the simple but tranquil moment.

It was true; she indeed named her son after Eric. 'Lucien', 'Luke' and even 'Bunchie' weren't the boy's actual name. His birth name, the name that was recorded in the Bureau of Records, was 'Eric Lucien Grant'. Before she was placed in the situation in which she was pregnant, she always carried the belief that she would name her firstborn son after their father. She still felt the same way, even after the ultrasound technician informed her of the unborn child's sex, during her second trimester appointment. Her stance in naming her son after his father became staunch, when she came to the conclusion that this particular 'Eric' would become a better man than his father.

"Well…" She sighed. "…I always believed in the concept of the firstborn son being named after his father. You weren't going to change my mind, even if you act like a dickhead from time to time." She rested her left cheek on the backs of her hands. She stared at the island counter that was several feet away, in the kitchen. "Tell me about yourself," she said softly.

"Why do you want to know?" There was a sense of distrust and caution in his voice.

She rolled her eyes. There was a thread of mild irritation. She kissed her teeth as she raised her head, neck and shoulders from off of the couch. She used her arms' strength to keep her up. She gazed down at the man that was presented before her.

"Eric...I know that you feel like you're protecting yourself, by being mysterious and withholding information from me. But, in order for us to be…" She paused. She contemplated for an appropriate word to use. "In order for us to be _great parents and copacetic_ towards each other, we do need to talk freely with each other…" Her eyes scanned the scarred up profile of his handsome face. "…I need to know some stuff about you because it teaches me how to feel comfortable around you..." She stamp down on the urge to trace the markings with her fingernails. "…I don't want to know this stuff, so I could use it against you. I want to know stuff because I want to know this stuff. I guess…" She sighed. "I guess what I am trying to say is, I would like to know this stuff because I want to know what made you into the man that I'm seeing now."

"When are you returning to work?" he suddenly asked. She detected a trace of emotion in his voice. It was a benevolent energy surrounding him, so she knew that he wasn't angry.

She also detected his attempt at deflecting. She pursed her lips and she gave him a downwards glance. "I'll be returning back to work next month, on the fifteenth. So, I'll be home with Lucien for a while."

"What about when you return to work, who will be taking care of him?" he inquired.

"I'm looking into that as we speak. My mother said that she knows someone who's perfect for the position. I haven't met her yet. I will," she informed him. "Why you want to know? You want to watch him while I'm at work?" she jested. The image of the intimidating faction leader pushing a stroller-riding Lucien through Dauntless while issuing out orders to initiates, popped up in her mind. The imagined scenario made her laugh.

"You know that I can't watch him. I'm a leader…" When her laughter became louder, he asked "What?"

In between giggle breaks, she gently clasped the top of his head and she brought her lips close to his right temple. "Eric, I was just joking with you and the fact that you actually thought that I was being serious makes it even funnier," she explained.

His lips performed a slight pucker while irritation flashed before his eyes, in response.

"Oh goodness, your son does the same thing when he's mad at me," she pointed out.

He briefly lifted up his head to glimpse at the baby. "Oh yeah?" He did a sideway glance at the mother. "What else does he do?"

Once again, she noticed his attempt at deflecting. 'He thinks that he's slick with his distractions.' She smiled. "There are moments when he reminds me of you, too-too much. If he doesn't want to do something, he'll give me this long stare and he'll look so annoyed. He can get into a mood where he doesn't want to be bothered, so he'll crawl into a corner of a room and he'll sit there until he's good and ready. He can definitely be a loner." Her right index finger tapped the cushion near his ear. "Alright Mr. Coulter, now answer my question. Tell me about yourself."

A glare of annoyance flashed across his face. His head turned away from her visual inquisition. He remained tight-lipped for a minute. "What do you want to know?"

"I don't know," she answered with a shrug of her shoulders. "Tell me anything."

"I don't want to tell you anything, how's that?"

'Ohhh, so when he is not acting like a robot, he acts like a smart-ass. Okay, that's one thing that I know about you, Eric. Well, this and the stuff that Malachi's told me.'

"Tell me about Anissa," she suggested.

"I thought that you didn't like her," he pointed out, throwing her previous claims back in her face.

"I don't," she stated so matter-of-factly. "I just want to know the info that only pertains to you. Like, how did you guys meet? Where did you guys meet? You told me once that y'all were from Erudite and y'all have history, so…" She shrugged her shoulders. "…That's a start."

Eric sighed and then turned his head, facing the ceiling. "We've met…" His brow furrowed. "…When we were kids. I say, when we were about twelve years old. We both were hanging out by the old piers, playing hooky from school. She had her reasons for being there and I had mine."

"What were your reasons for playing hooky?" she asked as she changed her position on the couch again. She settled onto her left side with her back gently pressed against the back of the couch and her hand propping up her head. "It would seem that playing hooky in Erudite would be a hard thing to do."

"Not when you fall into a particular station in life," he simply stated.

Her brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?" Unintentionally, her right hand trailed across the cushion to the destination of Eric's hair. Her fingers did playfully sweeps through the soft strands. Tonight, his hair wasn't styled in its usual, art-deco inspired coif. It was untainted with styling products, and for Nasira, surprisingly curly.

"In Erudite—And I heard that Candor does this as well—there is a caste system. It's never mentioned outright, but if you were to reside in both factions, you'll see it." He made a very audible exhale. "And if you fall into the wrong caste, you'll definitely experience it."

"What kind of…caste system are we talking about?" she asked, feeling intrigue with this new subject about a sub-culture that she knew very little about.

"In Erudite, there is a caste system that is based off of a person's level of intelligence. To put it bluntly, the dumb people are at the bottom of the totem while the smart ones are at the top. The ones in the middle are the people who have the average level of intelligence. The 'dumb people' are the servants, the housekeepers, the street cleaners, the garbage men, the plumbers and people who have jobs that no one else wants. If you haven't notice, there aren't any people with mental disabilities in Erudite. There's a reason for that. People say that Dauntless is the worst place to be in, but that's not true. We're just the one that doesn't have the better P.R. person. You know those statistics that comes out of Erudite all of the time?"

She nodded her head. "Yup."

"Don't you think that it is kind of… _odd_ at how Erudite is always the brightest, the healthiest, smartest, the…sexiest or whatever? Every once in a while, they'll throw Candor a bone by putting them at the top of a few lists. It's all bullshit."

"Careful there, Leader Coulter" she warned, in jest. "You're starting to sound like an anarchist."

He faced her. A smile tugged at his lips. "I thought you said that my leadership title don't mean shit to you," he pointed out.

"No, I said that your leadership title don't mean anything to me, once you step foot into my home. When I see you out in public, you are Dauntless Leader Coulter to me. But the moment you stepped foot into my home, you will always be Eric, the man…" She released a tiny hint of a smile. "…And that part of you, will always be more worthwhile to me," she confessed. "And I—

Nasira wasn't able to finish expressing her opinion. Eric's lips cut off the rest as they abruptly pressed up against her in the form of a kiss. Her eyes widened while her heart pounded against her chest and continued to pump adrenaline into her body. Her right hand stopped playing with his hair and clasped onto his skull. "Mmmmmppphhhh!" she grunted against his mouth. She attempted to pull away from him, but his hand shot out and grabbed the back of her neck, drawing her back to his lips. 'Eric,' her brain whimpered in alarm. 'He has a girlfriend! He has a girlfriend now! The one that he wanted.'

She was able to free herself from his affections, when her right hand clasped onto his throat and she pulled away. She was about to pulled back, when she blurted out "You—Anissa, she's your girlfriend now. You have a girlfriend," in a terse but hushed tone.

Without a pause of hesitation, he remarked with "But, I want you".

The conviction in his voice made her body throb with uncertainty. Her body desired him as well, but his current relationship status made him unavailable. 'You're acting like his relationship was created out of something that was pure,' the uninhibited side of her whispered. 'Your baby was conceived during the time, when he was _sooo in love_ with the woman.'

She subtly shook her head at him. "You have a girlfriend and I'm not the kind of woman who is going to be happy with just pieces of you," she whispered against his lips. 'You don't have to wait, you know. Eric… You can find some good uses for him. Just treat him like those guys treated you. Just use him until someone better comes along. He has a girlfriend…'

"I need you, baby" he whispered against her plump mouth before planting a soft kiss.

'…that he wants. She'll keep him busy. And if Rouge's right, you should have plenty of suitors waiting in the wings.'

There was another kiss to her lips. "I need you, baby" he repeated.

With a soft moan, she dropped her resolve and her lips sought after his. Her hand grabbed a hold of a tuft of his soft curls as she deepened the kiss. The tip of her tongue shyly asked for admittance, by tracing the edge of his top lip and the scar that marred the skin. He accepted her offer with vigor.

The union was disrupted by the sound of a sharp yet innocent sigh. Both parents separated with a quickness. Two pairs of alarmed yet cautious eyes stared at the precious bundle that was laying on his chest.

"The kid needs to go to bed," Eric announced, while staring at their son. "Where is his room?" A second later, he stared at her. "Please, tell me he is still not sleeping your bed," he stated with a sense of urgency.

Nasira hopped up from the couch. "I'll take him," she offered. Without waiting his response, she bent over Eric to pluck up their sleeping son. Lucien began to gently fuss as he slept, but she soothed him with kind words and a kiss. She had taken a few steps away from the couch before staring down at Eric. Then her eyes caught the sight of the slight hill that formed in the center of his pants. Her eyes scanned his face again and found a cocky, lazy smile while his eyes glowed a lust-fueled sheen. Her body released a pulse of anticipation. "Meet me in my bedroom," she whispered and then pointed her chin in the direction of the hallway.

She walked away from the couch and across the living room to the hallway. Lucien's nursery was located on the left side of the hallway, directly across from the bathroom. She entered the boy's bedroom, where she placed the child in his crib. She draped a soft blanket over his prone form. "Have a good night, baby. I love you," she whispered to him as he slept. She rubbed his little potbelly in a soothing manner.

"Puppies and…trains?"

Nasira glanced at the nursey's entryway and found Eric's bulky form taking up space. His arms were folded across his impressive chest while his eyes scanned the bedroom's décor. There was amusement marking his face.

"When I was still pregnant, I couldn't make up my mind about where I wanted to go. I must've been bugging my mother about it, and in turn, she must've been bothering my brothers about my indecisiveness, because they all shown up here one day and decorated the room," she told him as she did her own survey of the bedroom. She gave her son one last glance before powering up his monitor and night-light. She exited the nursery with Eric trailing behind her.

As they walked towards her bedroom, the master bedroom suite, he stroked the fires that was her arousal by being affectionate. His thick left arm casually wrapped itself around her middle, effectively making his body brush up against hers as they strolled. His lips would reached down occasionally to plant soft kisses on her neck and shoulders. By the time the two parents reached her bedroom's entrance, she was dealing with a full-fledge fiery inferno.

Once inside of her bedroom, she intentionally parted from Eric and his ministrations, to walk to the right side of the bed. With the flick of one bedside lamp's switch, she turned on both lamps. As she strolled back over to the man that caused her body to throb and over-heat, her fingers found the thin straps to her peach-colored dress. She peeled the straps off of her shoulders and let the fabric go, so it could slither down her body. She casually stepped out of the fabric.

He was still dressed in his sweatpants as she approached him. His fingers did traced the edge of the waistband, a meager attempt at a tease. He kept an unwavering stare locked on her as she sauntered up to him. Her hands automatically held onto his broad shoulders. Her lips sought his and placed a gentle kiss, an act of testing the waters. Before she could make the initiative in exploring, Eric took control. His left hand took a hold of her head while his right set of fingers clasped her chin. He displayed his passion for her by adding more force into his mouth's pulls and his tongue's licks. Her moans of appreciation flooded the bedroom.

With their mouths still locked together in an embrace, Eric guided Nasira to the king-sized canopy bed. They traveled to the foot of the bed where the edge of the footboard jammed up against the backs of her knees. She involuntarily collapsed onto the bed, breaking away from his affection. She collapsed onto the mattress with a song of laughter falling from her lips. She lain on the bed for a second, staring at him as he stood over her. Then she scooted further up the bed to the center. Her eyes still focused on him as she moved. In her peripheral view, she saw movement occur below his chest region. She figured that he removed his clothes.

Soon afterwards, he joined her on the bed and their mouths reunited. He wordlessly persuaded her to lay on her back while he stuck close to her right side. Eric's lips ushered in a conglomerate of sensations for her, in her. There were waves of heat that licked at her skin and made her muscles tight, including her weeping canal. His lips made a trail of arousal-laden kisses along her body. His warm and soft lips began its journey at her mouth and then traveled to her jawline, where he lined the edge with kisses. His face dipped down into the curve of her neck. His mouth's motives became more passionate and urgent. He nipped at the sensitive flesh and soothed the stinging with swipes from his tongue. He planted a family of kisses on her left shoulder and then with her collarbone. The tip of his tongue drew a line down from her collarbone to the valley of flesh that was in between her mounds. He turned his face slightly to the right, so his teeth could touch down on the inner curve of her left breast. The nip proved to be too much for her sore, nursing breast.

"Oh-ugh!" she moaned, while her back subtly arched. Her hands clasped his shoulders. She tilted her head so she could look at Eric. "Umm, Eric?" she moaned. She watched him pull away just a little. His left brow raised as his eyes peered at her. "They're…a little sensitive, baby. So you've got to be…patient with my girls down there," she warned.

A smoldering, growl-like chuckle fell from him and it caused her skin to become flush with heat. "You're still nursing?" he questioned. His face dipped low, hovering over her left tit. The tip of his tongue flicked her nipple. "I've noticed that you took out your piercings."

"I didn't think that it wouldn't have…" She paused when she felt his mouth did a strong pull at her nipple. A fiery line of arousal plucked at her clitoris in reaction. A trembling moan fell from her mouth as her eyes fallen shut.

"You like that?" he spoken into mound of flesh.

"Yessss," she hissed as her head lazily turned to the side. Then a slew of expletives fell from her as she felt his mouth awarded her with more pleasure.

His teeth gently nipped at the curves. Her tongue traced the rim of the darkened, plum-colored flesh that made up her areola. His lips kissed at her hardened nub, being mindful of its sensitive condition. He left her skin feeling tingly and with a ruddy complexion before his explorative mouth attached itself to her right breast. He provided this new sensuous territory with the same treatment. His tongue left trails of saliva on the heated skin while his teeth tantalized and teased. His mouth latched on the pleasure-infused nipple and he suckled. His left hand left its resting spot and squeezed at its outer curve.

Under the fog, she was aware of his actions and she knew what he was about to face, if he kept it up. Sure enough, she felt the familiar pull that usually came with the fiddling. Then she heard the sound of a surprised grunt from the man, who just expressed milk from her right breast. She released an all-knowing chuckle and then uttered, "I told you to be careful, baby". She felt his mouth unlatched from her.

"Was that… Was that what I think that was?" she heard him questioned.

Without opening her eyes, she simply said "Yeah, you just drunk some breastmilk. Not much because I pumped earlier, but yeah, it was breastmilk." She opened her right eye and she spied him. "Did you like the taste of it?" she teased.

A look of befuddlement crossed his face. "It… Wasn't bad, but it was… It's something that I won't actively seek out," he pointed out.

She broke out in laughter. She gave his thick hair a playful ruffling with her hand. "Well, they can be… Unpredictable," she informed him, before raising up and kissing him.

The short jovial mood was soon forgotten and the intensity was brought back. Eric resumed his mouth's journey and he found himself sliding further down her body. His lips planted kisses along the valley in between her tits and traveled down to her stomach. She was aware of his current destination and it caused her insecurity to bloom. Her stomach wasn't exactly at the point where she desired it to be, even after ten months had passed. It was flatter than the way it looked after she gave birth, but there was no definition and there was a slight swelling at the pit.

"Are you…?" His lips placed a pair of kisses on her stomach. "…sucking in your stomach because you are ticklish…" His mouth suckled on the sliver of skin before saying, "…or you don't want me to see it?"

"A little bit of both," she confessed in a moan.

"Well, don't be. You're sexy" he retorted.

She let out a smug-sounding chuckle. "Well, thank you for the compliment," she said with faux-arrogance.

She felt his eyes give her a glimpse to her face. Then she felt the tip of his tongue slither down to her pelvis and to the brown, swollen petals that eagerly awaited for his arrival. Her clit unleashed a pulsating message that spread through her body. Her arms stretched over her head and her fingers grabbed a hold of the comforter.

"Ah…Mmmm…." Her lips pursed up and then formed a smile.

She heard his arrogant chortle just as she felt his mouth latch onto her sex. A sharp moan fell from her lips and her hips thrusted into the air. Her mouth continued to sing for her body's pleasure as his mouth drew more carnal sensations from her. His tongue delved in between her seam, to tantalize the hidden treasure that waited for him. The tips of his fingers softly grazed at her wet folds, preparing her body for his invasion. His lips plucked at the nerve-filled knot that was her clit.

"Ohhhhh, right there Eric, Yeah, just like that, baby" she moaned. "Ahhh… Eric, keep on, baby." Her hands affectionately caressed his head as his mouth and fingers fucked her sex. To sate her curiosity, she opened her eyes at half-mast and peered down at his endeavors. He managed to drape her long legs over his shoulders. His left forearm was draped across her hips and pelvis, to keep her from moving. His right hand was in between her legs, fiddling with her sex and causing her pleasure. His eyes were closed and his brow was folded. She believed that he held a look of enjoyment; as if he enjoyed having her taste on his lips and tongue. The thought alone caused pussy's walls to squeeze around his fingers. It didn't take his ministrations long to make her reach her edge. With another stream of expletives spilling from her mouth, she came. Every muscle in her body became taut just as every limb trembled. "Eric-Eric-Eric-Eric…" she moaned.

She reached for him as soon as she was able to move her arms. Her palms were soon filled with heated flesh and dense muscle. His lips found various parts of her sated body to kiss as he ascended up her body. His lips made his way to his destination, her smiling lips. As they kissed, she led him to the bed.

"Let me return the favor," she whispered to his lips.

She viewed the pupils in his eyes blow out. Then she was gifted with a sly smirk. "Are you sure?"

She kissed his bottom lip. She nodded her head. "Mmm-hmm."

"Well, I'm not going to stop you."

She released a smoldering chortle. "Good," she murmured. She gave him another kiss before she descended down his body to her destination.

Nasira's eyes dilated with hunger as she peeped at the thick muscle that made up his manhood. He lain against his left leg casually, but he was still hard with arousal. Her right hand took a hold of the base of the shaft. She drew closer to the turgid flesh. The tip of her tongue sampled the smeared clear fluid that his glans shone. She considered the salty taste bearable. She heard his chest rumbled a moan, when her mouth sheathed the glans. She pulled back and swiped her tongue around the knot of flesh. His head jerked off of the pillow, when she licked the pendulum, the band of sensitive skin that was on the underside of the head. His hands clutched the crown of her head. A sharp but soft gasp fell from him. His deep blue orbs glared down his body, at the minx that was laying in between his legs.

"What-the-fuck was that?" he gasped, with fringes of awe in his tone.

She secretly laughed a smug one. Wordlessly, she further explained by giving him a demonstration. With her eyes staring at him, she revealed the second modification that her body contained. The forked tip of her tongue licked down his shaft. She traced the path of the most prominent vein in his prick, down to the base. Then she retraced her journey. She drew her mouth back to his glans. She suckled on the nerve-consumed flesh while her hand pumped at the shaft. Her bedroom became decorated with his moans. Her mouth sheathed more of his hardness. She sucked for a few beats and pulled away, creating stimulation that made him squirm.

As her right hand stroked at the tender flesh, her left twin clasped onto the pair of virile sacs that hung. Her fingers provided a firm caress to the skin.

"Gah-awwdd" he ferociously groaned as his hips made a sharp thrust.

Her hands continued to work his cock and sacs over. Her mouth sank deeper on his shaft.

"…Mmm, just like that," he urged. His hands found the back of her head. "Come on, baby." His hips lifted off of the mattress while his hands pushed on her head.

She felt his prick push pass her mouth's restraint. His glans violently butted up against the opening of her throat. 'Oooooohhh, be careful with what you—

Her thought was cut off when the burning sensation in her lungs stole her attention. She needed air; she needed to breathe. She fought against his hands and she won her freedom. She ejected his thick cock from her mouth. Her throat made an unsavory gasp as she gulped air. Her vision became blurry with tears. The back of her throat tickled as she took each hurried inhale. She made a series of sputtering coughs. With her lungs working, she gazed at her lover's face. Eric held an expression of mischief on his face.

"You're going to pay for that one," she teased.

The impish smirk broadened into a smile. "Oh yeah? What are you gonna do?" he said proudly.

With his proverbial gauntlet thrown, Nasira decided to meet his challenge. She grabbed the base of his cock and slathered the shaft with a glob of spit from her mouth. Her hand set a furious pace on his shaft, stroking him to the point where his body trembled with pleasure. Her mouth, meanwhile, fawned over the glans. Her dual-tipped tongue provided a flurry of rapid licks to the cluster of skin and to the underside of his member. She smiled inwardly, when she heard Eric cry out about his approaching climax. His knees raised up and his breaths were chopped up.

Her fingers loosened up from around his member. Her mouth slipped from over his glans and she sat upright. She stopped.

Eric's head rapidly lifted up. His cerulean orbs locked on hers. She was a witness to how quickly the aura of confusion faded into anger in his eyes. He was not pleased…

…And it made Nasira's heart soar with gleeful energy.

"Nas—Ahhh, shit!"

He didn't get the chance to finish his scolding. She didn't allow him to finish his scolding. Her mouth latched onto his sex, all of a sudden. Instead of like before, his hardness was sheathed by her mouth and throat. With slow and methodical strokes, she built a rhythm on his member; her mouth would make ten shallow strokes and a deep-throated stroke. Her ministrations built him up into another escalation. Then she removed her mouth again. She was greeted with a ferocious groan. She snorted and then laughed. She resumed.

Nasira was committed to perform another callous act of deprivation. But the Dauntless leader had other plans. As she sucked and fondles his overcharged sex, she built him up again. Once she unattached herself from his pleasure, she was surprised to find herself on her back, seconds later. She quickly snapped her vision over to the brooding, naked person that was in front of her.

Eric's deep blue eyes leveled a meticulous, cold gaze at her. It caused her body to shiver and to heat up with arousal.

"You think that shit was real cute, huh?" he growled.

Nasira smiled in response. She made an attempt to draw away from him by sliding away. He blocked her attempt by snatching up each thigh and dragging her back into his personal space. He shifted his lower body in between her opened legs. Her nose and eyes simultaneously picked the evidence of her arousal. Her eyes turned to Eric's face.

"You like…" His prick landed on her eager sex. "…torturing…" His hips shifted in a sawing motion against her slit. His shaft and glans bathed in her nectar.

The action made a thrilling ripple shoot through her. Her toes curled. Her mouth fell open and a hoarse mewl fell out.

"…me?" he questioned.

A short moan slipped from her. She stared at him. "C-Careful Eric. It's very un-Dauntless of you to compare this to—Fuck!"

Blunt force pleasure had exploded in her cunt. Her walls erratically clenched and released on his prick. The blowback from the bomb of pleasure rippled through her body. Points of pleasure stabbed at all erogenous zones. Her skin buzzed while her abdominals clenched. Her pair of nipples emitted pin pricks of sensual pleasure. Her heart raced and her chest felt saddled with weight. Her eyes peered down at their point of union. His groin was pressed firmly against her aroused sex.

'He bottomed out…Balls de— Oh, fuck!'

Her eyes stared at the man who was partly responsible for the toe-curling pleasure that she was feeling. Her eyes ogled the sweat-slathered, hair-layered torso, which showcased his defined muscles with every inhale. Her vision crawled up to his face. She fell under the spell that his eyes cast upon her. His deep set, blue orbs commanded that she remained a steady gaze.

His hips reared back at a deceptively-considerate pace, making his member crawl out of her and leaving a lasting impression. A husky wail slipped from her as her eyelids fluttered. She felt his hand skate down her left thigh to her left hip, where he held a tight grip. His hips snapped forward, slipping his hardness in her warmth. She jolted and moaned as her pleasure burned at her sex.

"Look at me," his hoarse voice demanded.

Nasira was not aware that her eyes drifted close. But they popped open as soon as she heard his command. Her dark sherry-colored view landed on his eyes again. The corners of his lips turned into a smile as he subjected her to another sharp thrust. The first few thrusts told her what type of fucking she was going to receive from the Dauntless leader. With his meaty hand settled on her thighs and her legs raised off of the bed, he rutted with her at an unrelenting pace. His thrusts were hard, fast and shallow. Yet, he made sure that his prick slid across her clit's surface, providing a delicious friction. A friction, which sent out several signals to several points of her body. Her pleasure made her tremble. His name kept falling from her lips in the form of clumsy mumbles. Her fingers held onto his wrists and decorated the skin with red-tinted, half-moons. Her climax quickly approached as she was subjected to Eric's lascivious advances. It built up like a rollercoaster ride's ascent, up to its highest peak. As she fell over the edge, it felt just as thrilling. With a muffled and hoarse cry, she came. Her limbs shook as her walls tightened around his pleasure-inducing manhood.

"Eric! Er-Eric! Eric!" she mewled. He gave her a throaty grunt in response.

Her body was still in the throes of her climax, when she was deposited on her belly. A rough paw grasped onto her hip and tilted her frame slightly. A fluffy pillow was wedged in between her body and the mattress' surface. He placed her back in the same position, but this time her ass was propped up in the air. His hand touched her lower back. Her wrists were captured in his other hand. They were pinned to the bed, above her head. His knees kicked each one of her thighs to the side and caused the gap to ridiculously widen in between her thighs. Seconds later, she felt her fleshy barrier being split apart by his probing cock and then being slowly filled his hardness. Her cunt's walls were stretched as his thick glans and shaft invaded her sheath. A hoarse cry flooded the bedroom as he settled into her, deeper than before. Seconds later, a blanket of heated flesh and muscle covered her. She took in the sight of his fist, which was planted a few inches away from her face. She felt his warm and soft lips on her back. He peppered her right shoulder with kisses before traveling to her neck.

"You're still tight for me," he whispered.

Even though she was in a sex-induced trance, she understood the intent behind those words. It was Eric's way of asking her if she has been sexually-involved with other men, during her ten-month sabbatical. A smile crossed her face. 'He thinks that he's slick,' her brain mused. She deeply inhaled and moaned, "It's just you, darling".

His lips grazed her ear. "Good…"

Air caressed her bare ass as he reared his hips back. It was a loud smack that echoed along the walls, when his hips surged forward and his groin slapped up against her. The sensation of being stretched and full made her moan out against the soft comforter. His lips grazed her left temple just as his hips reared back again. This time, his thrust felt stronger, harder but with seduction. This wasn't a rutting, it was something a little emotional. Her body unleashed a shudder in response. His balled-up hand grabbed at her hands. His lower body pushed pass her fleshy thighs to sink his prick deeper into her warmth. Her body appreciated his efforts by eagerly gripping his member. Both parents groaned. His hips pushed his groin against her inflamed sex. Pleasurable friction danced across her hairless labia and hardened clitoris. His teeth heightened her sensational experience by nipping at her cheek.

Nasira's plump lips pursed up and a hiss slithered pass. "FFFFFFFFFuck!" She pushed her ass back towards them, a silent request for more. She listened to his groan.

In this position, she expected for Eric to fuck her with the desperation that usually accompanied a dying man's spirit as he fights for his life. She expected another case of rough rutting, like the one from before. She expected him to fill her up by using thrusts that were fast-paced, rough and strong. She expected to feel his passion just as she felt his heated body against hers.

She received, however, treatment that was more passionate. It began the moment of when his hands gathered hers and interlinked their fingers together. Her eyes zoomed in on their hands. A tingling permeated through her and it wasn't from his thrusts. It built up, when he pressed his forehead against her temple. Her ear was flooded with his serenade of rough breaths and sounds of gratification. His hips orchestrated a performance that teased her heart and mind with hints of intimacy. His thrusts were of slow speed and deep. His cock allured every nerve that aligned her walls. With each stroke, he punctuated each one with either a soft kiss to her temple, a soft moan or a tight squeeze to her fingers. Occasionally, his hips would siphon more pleasure from her core with slow grinds against her.

Nasira came with a soft wail falling from in between her lips. Her body squirm against his body and the rumpled blanket. Her fingers squeezed and held onto his digits. After the last quiver faded, her consciousness was made aware of the heated body that covered her own. She whimpered as she tried to view his face. Her actions spurned him on. His lips gave her exposed cheek a kiss as he thrusted.

"Ahhhhh," she softly moaned, "Eric."

A throaty groan fell from his mouth. "I ain't done with you yet. I haven't forgotten about that little joke that you pulled," he informed her. His prick doled out a sharp thrust after each spoken statement.

A low-pitched whine escaped from her mouth as he lifted off of her.

"I am about to get my revenge on you," he explained.

In a sluggish manner, she queried his intentions. "What do you mean?" Her hips and ass was abruptly pulled backwards. His prick once again nudged her cervix. She grunted from the slight, dulled discomfort.

"Well…" His hands grabbed her hips and squeezed. "…I plan on fucking you, for the rest of the night," he reported. She noticed the nonchalance in his tone.

Nasira glanced at him from over her right shoulder. There was a sense of mirth smeared all over his handsome face. Before she could make a remark, she was silenced by a strike of pleasure. A flash of white light few across her eyes. A shuddering groan flew out of her mouth. Eric's hardness moved inside of her once again, in the form of a hard stroke. She felt his thick fingers curl around her throat. There was a soft squeeze. He held onto her neck while his prick and its hard thrusts worked her into completion. Before her body could simmer down, Eric continued to fan the flames by starting her up again. This time, his mouth and his fingers conjured the fire in her. His dick was reintroduced to her, as she tried to wade through the sea of lethargy that she was in. Eric just tossed her legs over his broad shoulders and proceeded to make her turn numb.

Her son's father tried to make good on his act of revenge. He used his body to coax any kind of orgasm from her spent body. As soon as she would reach her climax, her body would be rearrange into a new pose and then he fucked her again. Nasira felt as if she experienced every kind of orgasm that her body could create. Eric, on the other hand, didn't spill one bit of his seed. He purposefully kept his erection just so he could fuck her.

She eventually reached her breaking point, a few hours later. After one passionate session, she weakly scooted to the head of the bed and tried to hide behind the family of pillows. She then raised her left hand up and presented her index and middle fingers. Eric remain rooted in his spot, which was in the center of the bed and kneeling. An amused expression was written on his face. "What-the-hell does that mean?"

"It means that I surrender to this…Whatever this brand of torture this is," was her answer.

Eric cackled. He ran his fingers through his curly hair. "So…" He made his first steps towards her. "…you consider this to be torture and not that shit that you pulled as torture?" He came to a stop, when there were six inches of space between them.

Nasira eyed him warily. "If I say yes, then will you, and that battering ram that you like to call a 'dick', leave me alone?"

He chuckled. His hands pushed his sweat-stained hair from his eyes. He gave her a lingering glare. Finally, he answered. "Yes."

The cooling sensation that was relief touched at her spirit. She made an audible exhale.

He extended his hand out to her. "Come on."

Nasira took a hold of his hand and then shuffled over to his location. Once she was close enough, he sought after her hips. He pulled her closer. Her hands collided with his chest. As she began to tilt her face, his mouth attacked hers. She applied just as much fervor into their kisses. His lips move down to her neck where he suckled on the love-bruised skin. His hands meanwhile traveled to the back of her thighs, where his fingers curled around. A second later, she felt a firm pull on her legs. She grabbed a hold on his shoulders and held on as he lifted her. Her legs wrapped around his waist. She felt the world shift and her stomach flip as he rearranged their stances. He sat upright on her king-sized canopy while she straddled his hips. The new seating arrangement caused memories of Lucien's conception to float inside of her head.

"Please tell me that you're on something… This time," he whispered to her neck.

"Why?" She chuckled. "You don't want to work on making us a daughter, next?"

She received a cold, unblinking glare in response.

She snorted and then laughed. "Yes…" She kissed his lips. "Yes, I'm on a birth control."

"Good," he breathed. "Good."

When they reconnected, Nasira readily accepted his dick. Like their previous sessions, his member managed to stimulate every nerve. She pushed his hardness deeper into her already-sore canal. She felt a line of pressurized pleasure begin to form. It began in her sex and spread into the pit of her stomach, where the line had splintered off into every erogenous zone. With every stroke from his member, her body pulsated with carnal satisfaction. She hummed while her lips shown her gratitude with feverish kisses and blatant sounds of moaning. Despite spending most of the night having her body subjected to orgasms, her body was susceptible. She came with a hoarse wail and a flash of deep red across her eyes. Her nails dug into his shoulders and her hips moved to a soundless song.

"Eric!" She proceeded to chant his name in choppy pants. Her lips skimmed along the surface of his lips.

Under the fog of her climax, she was made aware of the soft comforter touching her back. She was also aware of Eric's hands as they arranged her legs' position around his waist. Her hands clasped onto his narrow hips and her heels dug into his thighs. She heard his fists slide along the comforter and coming to a rest by her head. His upper body slightly lifted and his face lowered to her neck, where he nuzzled. Meanwhile his hips unleashed a series of thrusts that were jarring. His strokes were fluid, quick-paced and displayed a sense of urgency. The sounds of the squealing bedsprings and the swaying headboard flooded her ears, as well as, tickled at her arousal. Her womb tingled, a sign that she was about to have another climax.

Her hands slid across the plains of taut, hot skin that made up his back and drifted down to his ass. Feeling the power behind his thrusts spurred her to unravel. Unlike the several previous ones, this one was comprised of a few small quivers that left her clitoris throbbing.

The softest moan escaped from Eric's mouth and it captured her attention. She turned her head slightly and she stared at his shoulder. Her lips pressed a soft kiss to his hair-covered cheek. "Come for me, baby" she murmured. There was a hitch in his breathing. "That's it. Just like…" She kissed him again as her hands rubbed his back. She listened to his shuddering breath while she felt his tremors against her body. A passing sensation of warmth filled up the space in between her thighs. She heard a gentle whimper just as he supplied her with all of his weight. He was heavy, but it was savored feeling. "Oh," she moaned softly. She wrapped her limbs around his body.

*~oMLo~*

Nasira's eyes gradually opened and officially welcomed the morning. Or rather, they welcomed the afternoon.

'One thirty-three!' her brain screamed while her widened, sleep-crusted eyes stared at the digital clock that was on her nightstand. She jerked upright and practically flew out of bed. The tender muscles in her legs reminded her of their exhaustion, once her feet touched the floor. Her mind replayed a snapshot of that night's activities. A fringe of arousal bloomed in her. Her overspent sex pulsated, in remembrance.

As she recalled the previous night, she quietly eyed the man that was solely responsible for the fatigue. Eric was laying on the other side of her bed, still asleep. He was laying on his stomach with his arms tucked underneath the pillow. His head was turned and he was facing her. His face held an expression of contentment. His eyes were shut but without tension. The brow ridge was smooth without a wrinkle of worry.

"Ma-Ma!" was sprayed out of the baby monitor that was on her nightstand. She also heard remnants of the call being displayed out in the hallway.

'Luke!' her brain reminded her. 'He must've heard the sounds of her feet touching the hardwood floor. Her conscious reminded her of the time. She grimaced while she chastised herself. 'I'm such a bad mom for over-sleeping! He must be so scared right now!'

She learned that it was quite the opposite, when she entered Lucien's room, twelve minutes later. Her son was calmly sitting in his crib, cross-legged and playing with a toy that she left in there. Once he was alerted of her presence, he turned to her and smiled.

Her guilt struck her again. 'I'm such a…'

Lucien nicely placed his toy down and stood up in his crib, by using the railing to balance himself. With a glowing and smiling face, the toddler reached out for his mother. "Ma-Ma! Ma-Ma! Ma-Ma!" he shrieked jubilantly.

'I am such a shitty mom,' she secretly whined.

With a simpering smile, she made her way to her son and she pulled him from out of his crib. His little legs wrapped around her waist and his chubby hands grabbed her face. He gave her a sloppy, drool-worthy kiss on her left cheek.

"Oooh" she swooned. With watery eyes, she gazed at her son. "I love you, Luke." She kissed his chubby, right cheek as he laughed and clapped his hands.

Nasira began her day with her usual rituals. After changing the baby into a clean diaper and into his layette, the both of them entered the living room. She procured the baby's walkers and placed him inside. The child excitedly took off further into the living room. Soon, the large room was filled with the sounds of wheels running across the wooden floorboards and the sounds of babbling.

She made her way into the open-air kitchen to start cooking a late breakfast. She didn't know if Eric was the type of person who willfully eat a meal as soon as he woke up, but she decided to take a chance. After raiding her refrigerator for ingredients and powering up her coffee machine, she decided to clean herself up, along with her son.

'Oooh Lord!' her brain gasped as she took in her reflection. Her wide eyes stared at her face and hair's reflection. Her hair was sticking up in different angles while the stylized luster and the bouncy curls that it once contained had disappeared. A film of dried saliva formed at the corners of her mouth. Her face was slightly bloated and there was a slight redness in the sclera of her eyes. 'Oh, I have to tame this,' she silently said to herself. She placed Lucien on the bathroom floor. As a precaution, she placed the toilet seat's lid down. 'To avoid that situation from happening again.' She glimpsed at her son. He was eyeing her as well, but he held a look of contempt. "Yeah, I know what you were thinking about, buddy," she told him. "I am planning on not losing any more makeup and socks because of…" She pointed at him. "…yooooooooouuuuu," she drawled.

Her last statement caused Lucien to chuckle. She smiled and then proceeded to fix her hair. With the help of a brush, a dollop of hair pomade, a handful of water and a hair tie, she styled her hair into a bun. Then she cleaned herself and her son. By the time she was finished, the smell of brewing coffee penetrated the atmosphere.

Nasira noticed that Eric was still asleep, when she entered the dimly-lit bedroom. He was laying on his back now with his legs tangled up in the bed linen. His arms were strewn across his torso. The sound of her son's arrival reminded her to make sure that his father was covered. She breathed a sigh of relief when she spotted a sliver of his boxer-briefs.

"Eric," she said softly. She pushed a tuft of curls from his forehead. "Eric, wake up, darling" she whispered. Her fingertips drummed a melody on his forehead. She watched his brow crumple and his top lip curled slightly. She chuckled softly. 'So that's where Lucien gets it from.' She saw his eyelids flutter for a few beats before peeling back, revealing his blue eyes. She noticed the softness in them. The energy of confusion pooled around in his eyes and it was followed by the sense of recognition. "Good morning," she greeted him.

"Morning," he whispered. His eyes did a slow blink. "What time…" He paused. His body unleashed a hearty stretch.

Nasira glanced at the clock. The time read '2:52 PM'. She looked away. "It's going on fifteen-hundred hours."

His eyes widened and became more alert.

She noticed. "Did you have somewhere else to go?" she questioned with concern in her tone.

He performed a deep inhale as his hand ran across his face. "No," he said into his hand. "No, I don't. For a moment, I thought that I did have some place to go. I'm not used to sleeping in so late," he clarified, this time, without the hand.

"Would you like to have some breakfast with us?" she asked him.

Eric gave her a lingering stare, before answering. "Sure, why not." Then with a grunt, he sat upright in the bed.

"If you would like to shower, then I could get you…" She let the statement trail off.

"Alright," he murmured. He swung his legs off to the side and over the edge of the mattress.

A stream of juvenile, enthusiastic babble filled the air. Then the sounds of wheels sliding across the floor, followed. "…You!" Lucien chuckled. Nasira lifted up slightly and peered over the edge. She spotted the tuft of brown hair. She continued to survey that clump of ringlets as it travel, over the horizon that was the mattress' edge, to where Eric was sitting.

"Hi."

It wasn't the reaction that she expected. His tone was light, yet not high-pitched when he spoke. The logical side of her knew that Eric wouldn't talk to their son in the 'baby talk' dialect. But she didn't know if he would speak to their son with emotional un-attachment, like he would speak to an initiate or a fellow colleague.

Lucien responded to his father with more babble. The boy rolled his way closer to Eric. He babbled and converse with his father. Then he raised his arms in the air, his way of asking to be picked up.

"He wants you to pick him up" she explained.

Eric gave Nasira a glance from over his broad shoulder. Then he peered down at their son. A second later, she heard Lucien grunt. "Alright," mumbled Eric.

Nasira watched his hunch over and take Lucien out of his walker. The boy squealed with delight and he gave Eric a toothless smile. The pair of tiny arm wrapped around his neck. A sloppy kiss was given to his bearded jaw, a second later. She saw the slight grimace on his face. She had a gut feeling that the Dauntless leader was a neat-freak.

'Well, you better get used to it, buddy.'

A moment later, Eric, Nasira and their son had gone to the living room. Once there, the father and son sat at the island counter while the mother fixed their meals. For the parents, there were egg white omelets with diced vegetables and a bowl of mixed fruit with wheat toast. Lucien was fed a small bowl of maple syrup-flavored oatmeal. For his meal time, the child sat on his father's lap because he refused to be place in his feeding chair. When she tried to persuade him, he just clung tighter to his father's left flank and he gave his mother a disapproving glare. The subtle action left a profound impact on both parents, but they kept silent about their opinions. For conversation, the parents chose to speak about light topics, which consisted of the comings and goings that occurred in Dauntless and about Lucien.

During the silent periods, Nasira did reflect about their time together. In particular, their last sexual encounter from last night. It was different, very different from the previous ones, she sensed. Every one of their previous escapades were fun but emotionally disconnected. She was his willing fuck-toy that he managed to play with. She wasn't offended. She enjoyed herself because she needed the sex.

However, the last one left a bit of residual energy and she wasn't talking about his semen either. The last act, in which he held her in his arms as he helped her come, felt different. Then there were his thrusts. She felt his urgency. But she didn't think it was about his impatience for the arrival of his orgasm. She detected the motivation of something else.

"Ma-Ma!"

Her son's calling pulled her from her thoughts. She looked at her son and smiled. "Hi, big boy!" Lucien smiled and squealed. He remained seated in his father's lap. She glimpsed at Eric. "He likes you, which is surprising."

"Why is it?" he asked.

"He doesn't go to men that he's never met." She took a sip of her coffee. "He didn't even go to his uncles. And it was like pulling teeth to get him to go to Malachi. It wasn't until… What?"

"Who's Malachi?" he asked with a sharp edge in his voice.

'Wait… Why is he…? Is he…? Nah, he can't be.'

She did a grimace. "Malachi is my best friend… And Lucien's unofficial godfather."

"What-the-hell is an 'unofficial—?

"It means that I want him to be Lucien's godfather, but ever since he lives in Erudite—

"He lives in Erudite? So, how do you remain friends with him, if he lives in another faction?"

"He is a Dauntless-born. He transferred to Erudite. A strong part of him wanted to stay, but he knew that couldn't because he wouldn't have passed the initiation," she informed him.

"Dauntless is only for the brave," Eric pointed out before taking a sip of his coffee.

"And it's for the physically abled, more importantly," she counterpointed. She saw the question written on his face. She decided to explain. "Malachi… He doesn't have full control of his hands. Plus, over seventy percent of his body was burn."

Nasira watched the glaze of recognition come across his eyes. "I think I know who you're talking about," he said to her. "The guy that you were dancing with on the night of the Diplomatic Banquet. Is that the one?"

She nodded her head.

"What happened to him? How did you guys meet?" he asked.

She was pleased that he was genuinely interested. She bit down on her bottom lip to keep from smiling. She plucked a grape from her bowl and bit into it. "Malachi was burned when he was about Luke's age. His brothers were playing with a lighter that they found and they accidentally lit some bedding on fire. It just so happens that Malachi was laying on those blankets. And in regards to your second question, we met when we were in second grade. A few boys were beating on him and I decided to come to his aid."

"You can't fight worth a shit," he told her. "I remember you during your initiation trials."

"Yeah, I know" she said so matter-of-factly. "It's why when I came to his aid, I also got my ass kicked."

Eric did a spit-take into his coffee cup.

*~oMLo~*

After the trio finished their late breakfast, Nasira cleaned up. Meanwhile Eric and Lucien played in the living room, but only after he received words of encouragement from her. She intermittently observed both boys as she cleaned. She wanted to laugh when she saw Eric's standoffish demeanor. She knew it was just the case of him not knowing what to do with the boy. She knew that he didn't have any experience with interacting with children. He was in a whole new ballgame and he didn't even have a baseball bat. In Eric's eyes, Lucien was the same as a puppy, when it came to his perception. In fact, she caught the leader playing "Go, Fetch" with their son. It was at this point, she decided to help him out. She suggested to the father to teach his son a lesson in walking. She had shown him her favorite method, which consisted of Lucien leaning up against a wall until he was comfortable enough to travel. Then she left them alone again. Twenty minutes later, Lucien grew tired of his dad's controlling and authoritative ways. He sought after his mother, crawling into the kitchen and then proceeding to tattle on his father. She, then, jokingly dismissed Eric by telling him to go to the bathroom and take his shower.

During the forty minutes that Eric was showering, Lucien became her baby boy again. He cuddled with her as she sat on the couch and read from a story book. Then once he heard the bathroom door open and Eric's footsteps, he tossed her aside. He carefully climbed off of the couch and then crawled out of the living room to follow his father. Like most boys, he stayed in his father's company until it was his time to leave.

"Nah…"

'Please-please-please, don't start this now.'

"Nah-ooooooo…"

Nasira watched in mild annoyance as her son's usual beautiful face morph into a mask of grief.

"…oooooooooo…" There was a pause in the sorrow-filled, call out. A pair of fat tears dripped down his cheeks. His fists flailed in the air.

'And here it comes…'

The living room and the hallway outside of her home was decorated with Lucien's ear-piercing wails.

Lucien thrashed and struggled against her embrace. Nasira knew that she was participating in a battle where she would lose, so she decided to submit a painless surrender. She kneeled down to the floor and carefully deposited her son. As soon as his hands and knees touched the floorboards, he took off in a fast crawl. She knew where he was going and she watched him travel to his destination. Along the way, his tiny body kept crying out wails. If it wasn't for the swaying diaper-clad, booty being funny, she would've broken out in tears by now. The screaming baby ended up crawling over to the front door, where Eric stood halfway in the living room and in the outside corridor.

Eric scooped Lucien up as soon as the boy clasped onto his left leg. He held his son in his arms and drew him close. Lucien's arms tried to wrap his arms around his dad's broad frame while he pressed his curly-haired head against Eric's collarbone. His sobs still shook his tiny frame. They just held each other, in the doorway of the front door.

The scene caused both a physical and emotional reaction for Nasira. 'I was wrong.' Her brain whispered. 'I was wrong. Lucien needs him.' The revelation caused a tightness in her throat and her eyes to sting with tears, which threatening to fall. Her stomach clenched. 'He needs him… I need him to be here.' She coughed, an attempt to dislodge the lump in her throat. She unintentionally caught Eric's attention. His azure-hued eyes locked in on her. She was surprised to see the softness in them. She pointed to him. "You see what happens when you play with him for two hours?" she quipped.

Eric's lips did a short stint as a smile. He snuggled closer to their son. She detected his lips move, but he kept his voice low. He held onto their son and rubbed his back, soothing him. His cries diminished into whimpers. Lucien looked at his father, red-faced and tear-stained. Nasira was a just a simple spectator in this moment, a spectator who wished that she had her camera.

After a moment, there was a "Nasira".

He didn't have to tell her anything. She knew what he wanted from her: to take Lucien from him. She stood up and then reluctantly strolled up to the father and son. She stood by Eric and began to detract their son from his arms. Once again, Lucien broke out into tears. This time, she held onto the boy as he squirmed. She was in the process of slipping a protective arm underneath his bottom, when Eric planted a kiss on the top of his head. Nasira was surprised about his action. When Eric paused a millisecond later, she believed that his action even surprised him.

A second later, his eyes focused on her. "I'll see you later on," he said to her.

She nodded her head. "Okay…I'll see you later."

Eric gave them one last stare before he stepped away. She remained in the doorway with one foot in the apartment and the other foot in the outside corridor. Her arms attempted to console their son while her eyes were observing the retreating figure.

The Dauntless leader wasn't aware of the woman's lingering stare. He wasn't aware that she noticed the way his back gradually shifted from relaxed to rigid and straight. He wasn't aware that she detected the way his head stopped its natural bobbing and became stationary. He wasn't aware that she managed to witness the moment of when he turned from the man to the Dauntless faction leader. She watched his retreating figure until he made the left turn into the elevator bay.

She stared down at the empty hallway, for a few seconds. Then Nasira stared down at her son's hair. "Luke? Luke." Once her son tilted his face so he could glance at her, she pointed down the hallway, in the direction that his father walked. "Did you see that, Luke? Did you know that was daddy that just left?" Lucien mimicked his mother by pointing in the same direction. She nodded her head. "Yeah, that was your daddy? Can you say 'Dada'? Mmm? Let's try it, okay?" She stepped into her home and turned her back to the hallway. "Maybe, we should try to say it, so it can be a surprise for daddy."


	6. Author's Note

**Hey, lovely people!**

 **I am leaving this note to let you all know that I've added another short tale. It's called "The Burning Knot."**


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